


Black Knights, Steel Hearts

by STMPD



Series: Bubblegum Crucible [1]
Category: Bubblegum Crisis
Genre: Action/Adventure, Explosions, Lasers, Railguns, Robots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-27
Updated: 2018-05-27
Packaged: 2019-05-14 06:30:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 45
Words: 169,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14764406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/STMPD/pseuds/STMPD
Summary: The first in the BubbleGum Crucible Series.An American Mercenary group, hot on the heels of a kidnaped teenage girl, comes to MegaToyko. The Knight Sabers are reluctantly drawn into the affair, after finding out the girl has important information on technology that might make the Boomer almost invincible. Soon, they find themselves not only trying to rescue the girl, but trying to figure out who is friend and who is foe....





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This isn't mine; it's an import of a Bubblegum Crisis fanfiction by a certain Craig A. Reed Jr. But given that mediaminer isn't exactly raking in cash nowadays and could go belly-up at any moment, and given that this fanfiction is almost impossible to find anywhere else on the web despite having a tvtropes recommendation, I thought I'd help fulfill ao3's duty of preservation by uploading it to the archive.

*************************************************  
  
 **Pa rt 1 - Opening  
**  
Chapter 1  
  
  
Manhattan Island  
MegaNew York, NY, USA  
Thursday, December 20, 2035  
1:22am EDST  
  
The snow had been falling for several hours now, and there was speculation that this could be the first white Christmas the city had seen in two decades. There were few people walking the streets tonight, but even the snow couldn't entirely halt the business of the city, legal or illegal.  
  
The Fairline Hotel was an unremarkable building on the lower west side of Manhattan Island. Its short, squat shape was an unusual sight in modern day Mega-New York, given the city's drive to be as modern as MegaTokyo. Built during the late 1990's, the hotel had managed to stay a moderately priced establishment, despite all that happened around it.  
  
Right now, the district was in the middle of a major building boom. Five skyscrapers were being built in the lots around the hotel. Three were well under way, while the other two were barely more then steel structures rising in the cold night air. With the exception of the occasional security guard, the construction sites were usually deserted.  
  
But not tonight.  
  
From the safety of one of those half-built skyscrapers, a shadowy figure watched the main entrance of the Fairline Hotel. The few times it did move, it seemed to move less smoothly then a human, accompanied by small mechanical sounds.  
  
The hardsuit was burnished black, with dark gold highlights. A small insignia, that of a black knight's head on a gold shield on the hardsuit's right breast, was the only identification. The suit itself didn't have the massive bulk of most military hardsuits. The military would have loved to have one in their arsenal, had they known of its existence, but the hardsuit's occupant didn't dare give them one.  
  
Greg continued to watch the main entrance below, his helmet's optical at full magnification. _I don't like this_ , he thought. _I should have waited for better Intel._  
  
He keyed his commline. "Knight One to all Knights, status reports."  
  
"Blue Leader is standing by." Harland's voice sounded tense, expectant. "No activity at the side door."  
  
"Blue Two reporting. Trade entrance is silent."  
  
"Blue Three here. The parking garage is silent."  
  
"White Leader reporting." Fran's voice was cooler then Harland's, but even she had some tension. "No unusual traffic on Holman or 34th."  
  
"White Two reporting. I have a suspicious vehicle heading toward the Hotel on Jackson Avenue."  
  
Greg frowned. He keyed his mike. "White Two, what type of vehicle?"  
  
"A tractor trailer."  
  
Greg frowned. There were no markets or warehouses near here. "Distance from the hotel?"  
  
"Three clicks, and closing."  
  
"White Two, Keep an eye on it. White Leader, you and White Three move to secondary positions to support White Two, just in case he has to stop the truck from coming through."  
  
"Understood Knight One. White Leader out."  
  
"Understood. White Two, out."  
  
A new voice broke in "Red Three to Knight One." If Fran's voice was cool, Marla's was glacier in tone. "I have movement at the main entrance."  
  
Greg looked at the magnified image of the small knot of people emerging from the hotel lobby. There were five of them, three large men, a woman as tall as the men, and a young girl. The two women stayed in the middle of the men, while the trio scanned the surrounding area with chilling proficiency. The type of proficiency that can only be found in Boomers.  
  
"Blue Three to Knight One. I have three cars exiting the parking garage, moving to the front door of the hotel."  
  
"Understood, Blue Three. Hold current position." He keyed the mike to a different channel. "Red Four, analysis?"  
  
Two floors below, another hardsuited figure carefully scanned the quintet below. Nicky's voice sounded distracted, probably because he was operating sophisticated scanning equipment. "I have three BU-55C's confirmed, designated as Targets Alpha, Beta, and Gamma." The three men in Greg's visor suddenly had icons next to their images. "One probable C-series female Boomer, designated as Target Able." A different icon flashed into life near one of the women. "The last target is confirmed as main objective. She looks scared."  
  
Greg thought for a minute. _It has to be now. We can't wait any longer_. "Red Team, form up on me. We'll take the Boomers head on. Blue Team, stand by to move and secure the objective. White Team, stop that tractor trailer. We move in five seconds. Red Four, start jamming as we move."  
  
By now, the three cars had pulled up in front of the hotel. The small group of Boomers moved as one toward them. Greg straightened, glanced at the hardsuit's readouts and shouted, "Red Team, Go!"  
  
He stepped off the platform into the air. For a fraction of a second, he fell toward the street. The thrusters then kicked in, not enough to completely arrest his sudden decent, but it was just enough to slow him. He felt more then saw the other members of Red Team descending with him.  
  
Below him, he saw several heads snap up to watch their decent. The car doors opened, three more men stepped out as one, and looked up.  
  
Greg cursed under his breath. He should have taken in account the drivers were probably also Boomers. As he watched, the visor added new icons to the three new people. They were marked as targets Delta, Epsilon, and Kappa. More Boomers.  
  
"Red Team, engage Targets Delta, Epsilon, and Kappa. Blue Team, move in and take out Targets Alpha, Beta, and Gamma."  
  
He was four stories above the ground now, and the Boomers were beginning to move, tearing away their human disguises, and preparing to open fire at them. The female Boomer grabbed the girl and pulled her back into the safety of the hotel's lobby.  
  
"Starting ECM, burnthrough in one-five seconds."  
  
It would be a temporary advantage at best. He aimed his right arm at his target. "I have Target Delta." A flash of steel erupted from the rail gun in his hardsuit's right arm. The wave of steel spikes, each as long and thick as a finger, punched deep onto the Boomer's armor.  
  
It staggered under the assault, then opened fire with its mouth laser. Greg twisted to the right, and the bolt of light shot past him, and into a steel support beam of the half-completed building behind him.  
  
The sound of a minigun firing was heard over the commline as another voice broke in. "Red Two here, I have Epsilon."  
  
The Boomer designated as Epsilon exploded as the heavy 20mm shells shattered its armor. The car next to the Boomer also detonated, turning the night sky into daylight, as well as wrecking the other two cars. Through the flames, Greg saw the running figures of Blue Team advancing toward the first three Boomers.  
  
"Burnthrough in ten seconds," said the voice of Red Four, his voice unnaturally calm in the heat of battle. "All Knights, I'm picking up burst transmissions from Target Gamma. High frequency, and very short."  
  
As Greg landed on the snow-covered sidewalk, he heard White Leader shout over the common channel, "All Knights! That tractor trailer has released five - no, SIX BU-12C Combat Boomers, and they're on an attack vector for your location. ETA, thirty seconds."  
  
"Can you delay them any, White Leader?" asked Greg, dodging to his left as the Boomer designated Delta fired another blast at him with its mouth laser.  
  
"We can try, Knight One. But we're outnumbered and outgunned here."  
  
Greg snarled a curse and fired at the Boomer with his railgun again. The spikes struck low and hard, shearing the Boomer's right leg off at the knee. As the Boomer fell, Greg launched himself at it. The monoblade housed in his hardsuit's left arm slid out of its sheath and locked into place.  
  
The blade came down hard and fast, separating the Boomer's head from its body. Greg spun to meet the next attack, but there was none. He saw the remains of two other Boomers scattered among the three wrecked cars. "All Knights, Status reports."  
  
"Blue Leader here. Target Able has retreated inside the hotel with the main target. Targets Alpha, Beta, and Gamma have been eliminated."  
  
"White Leader reporting." The sounds of explosions in background made her voice hard to hear. "White Three is down, and we're under heavy pressure here. One Boomer is damaged, but we can't hold them back much longer."  
  
 _Damn_. Turning his head, he looked in the direction of White Team's location, and saw the explosions and laser traces three blocks away. The entire mission had turned into his worst nightmare. He couldn't leave White Team to fight that large a number of Boomers, and he didn't have the time to search the entire hotel for the Boomer and the girl. "All Knights, abort the mission. I repeat, abort the mission."  
  
Greg heard several sharp intakes of air from the other Knights. He ignored it. He had to.His people came first. "Blue Team, fall back to rally point FOXTROT. Red Team, form up on me. We're going after White Team."  
  
The glow of the thrusters added more light to the night air as the three members of Blue Team moved away to the rally point. The other three members of Red Team joined their leader. Greg looked at each of them. He couldn't see their faces, but he knew them well. All the Knights were his friends, but these three were his family. "Let's do it, people."  
  
With that, he turned toward the battle in the distance and launched himself into the air. The thrusters kicked in, and he charged into battle, the rest of Red Team behind him.  
  
 ************  
**  
MALCORP Headquarters,  
Philadelphia, Pa. USA  
December 20, 2035  
9:12am EST  
  
MALCORP headquarters occupied the entire space of a forty-story tower not far from the historical Independence Hall. Looking like a thin needle, the tower stood out among the other skyscrapers in the city's skyline, an elegant combination of glass, steel, and concrete. Unlike some of the other corporate headquarters, MALCORP was decked out in the colors of the seasons, giving the building the appearance of an overgrown Christmas tree  
  
Gregory Mallory ignored the building's appearance as he climbed the steps to the main entrance. A small pack of bodyguards was formed in a loose circle around their boss, their searching gaze watching everything around them. The few people around the front entrance gave the group a wide area of clear space around them. Despite the holiday season, no one wanted to get caught in a crossfire should someone try to take out the chairman and CEO of MALCORP on his own front steps.  
  
Not that Mallory looked like an easy target. He was tall and lean, and moved with an easy grace. His features were a bit too sharp to be called handsome, with dark hair cut short and combed away from his face. The most striking feature was his eyes - one was green blue in color, the other steel gray - they demanded eye contact when he looked at someone.  
  
He looked absurdly young to be in such a position of responsibly. But even his worse critics admitted that under Mallory, MALCORP was emerging as a leader in several fields. Military weapons, medicine, and computers were their strong suits, but they were widely regarded in several other fields.  
  
The group passed through the front doors without incident. Inside the lobby, they were met by Marla Brooks-Fenton, Mallory's personal assistant. She slipped though the circle of bodyguards with practiced ease, always careful not to shield a bodyguard's view or gun hand. She fell into step with Mallory as the group marched across the lobby.  
  
"What is it?" Mallory asked tiredly. The plane ride back from New York hadn't been pleasant, and he'd gotten only three hours of sleep.  
  
Brooks-Fenton was a slim, attractive woman with shoulder length red hair and bright green eyes. She wore a subdued business suit, and a compact headset with a microphone. "Sir," she said causally, showing none of the effects of the same plane ride. "There have been some developments in the VanDell matter." She handed him a sheet of folded paper.  
  
He unfolded the paper, glanced at it, then refolded the paper, and handed back to Brooks-Fenton. "I want Mr. Grace and Miss Acreman in my office as soon as possible."  
  
Brooks-Fenton spoke into the microphone, then said to Mallory, "They will be here shortly."  
  
"What is Mr. Chang's condition?"  
  
"The Doctors think he will lose that arm."  
  
"Damn. When he's recovered, I want him given an A1 priority for a cyberlimb replacement."  
  
"Already done, Sir."  
  
Mallory gave her a tired smile. "You are a treasure, Marla."  
  
"I try to be, Sir."  
  
The ride up on the elevator was made in silence. Once the elevator doors opened, the bodyguards separated to their assigned positions. Mallory, Brooks Fenton, and the two largest bodyguards made their way to Mallory's office at the far end of the hall. As they approached, the large twin doors opened silently.  
  
Mallory strode into his office, followed by Brooks-Fenton. The large double doors closed, leaving the bodyguards outside. The office was a modest sized affair, considering its occupant, but it was well furnished with all the amenities any CEO would want or need.  
  
Greg stood and stared out the large window behind his desk. Brooks-Fenton sat in a chair next to Mallory's desk, and waited.  
  
"Are you sure of the source?" he asked quietly, still staring out of the window.  
  
"Yes Sir. They were spotted boarding the plane by one of our agents. It was a direct flight."  
  
"Directly to MegaTokyo."  
  
"Yes Sir."  
  
"And of course, MegaTokyo is now GENOM owned. Lock, stock, and barrel."  
  
"Almost accurate, Sir."  
  
"And if we go after her, we end up fighting on GENOM's home turf." He turned to face her. "What are our assets in MegaTokyo?"  
  
Brooks-Fenton glanced down at a small notepad. "We have a small regional office there, a pharmaceutical research and manufacturing center, two smaller manufacturing plants, and several parcels of real estate currently not in use. A total of seven hundred sixty-two people on our direct payroll, of which thirty are suitable for black ops. Another twenty-five freelancers we can rely on."  
  
"Agents inside GENOM?"  
  
"Three. None higher then mid-level management. All in nonsensitive areas."  
  
Mallory sat in his chair, and stretched. "Send a message to the regional office there. I want the top ten freelancers on our list out on the street searching for Janie ASAP. I want them to have a full description of her, but for God's sake, don't tell them the real reason why she's been taken. Let the freelancers know this is going to be dangerous. Double their usual rate, triple it if they object. Also, authorize a five-hundred-thousand-yen bonus if they actually find her.  
  
"Call the airport, and have my plane ready for flight. We'll have to stop over in Los Angles, but I want to be in MegaTokyo by this time tomorrow."  
  
Brooks-Fenton looked at him in surprise. "We're going to MegaTokyo?"  
  
"I haven't been there in fifteen years. Besides, do we have another choice?"  
  
"There is a Mercenary group already in MegaTokyo that could do the job. Their hardsuits are advanced models, plus they know the city."  
  
"The Knight Sabers?" Mallory shook his head. "I want - no, I NEED to do this. If our opponent thinks The Black Knights are going to let this one go by, they're seriously mistaken."  
  
There was a knock at the door. One of his bodyguards opened the door, and stuck his head in. "Mr. Grace and Miss Acreman are here, Sir."  
  
"Send them in, Remus." He looked at Brooks-Fenton. "Get those items taken care of now."  
  
Brooks-Fenton nodded slowly and stood. "Yes Sir. I'll get on these right away." She nodded to the two visitors just entering, and left.  
  
"Take a seat, both of you," said Mallory. He waited until they had both made themselves comfortable before he continued. "Last night was not a very good night for the Black Knights, was it?"  
  
"No Sir," replied Harland Grace, Leader of the Knight's Blue Team. He was medium height, heavy build, with hard features. An ex-solider, he was one of the original Knights. "In fact, it was a megaclusterfrack."  
  
Mallory nodded. "The Combat Boomers was a nasty shock. We're lucky none of us got killed." He turned to Acreman. "I'm sorry to do this, Fran. But I'm standing down White Team, effective immediately."  
  
Francine Acreman nodded slowly. She was taller, thinner, and less abrasive then Grace. "I'll have my resignation on your desk by noon today."  
  
"I don't want your resignation, Fran," replied Mallory sharply.  
  
"But I failed to hold the Boomers long enough for you to rescue Janie. Because of that, the mission was a failure."  
  
"If there's anyone at fault, it's me," said Mallory. "It was my decision to order the strike without full intelligence. I was the one who seriously underestimated our opponent's security measures in this matter. It would have taken all three teams to take that Boomer squad out, and probably would have cost us plenty in casualties. You did well to slow them until Red Team arrived to cover your withdrawal."  
  
Mallory leaned forward, his gaze never leaving Acreman's face. "White Team is still yours. That hasn't change. But between Chang's injuries, Karson looking like one huge walking bruise, and having to literally pry you out of your hardsuit, White Team is just not ready for deployment."  
  
Acreman nodded, looking more relaxed. "What do you want us to do?"  
  
"First, You and Karson are on vacation for the next week, effective ten minutes ago. I checked you record, and you haven't had a vacation in two years. If you want, I can arrange to fly you down to the corporation villa on Bermuda. I don't care what you and Karson do for the next week, as long as you don't show up here."  
  
"After your vacation, you and Karson will be temporarily assigned to Project MORDRED. Professor Femorain has been, er . . . `Requesting' input from the Knights for the last several months. This will be a perfect time, especially with the run-in you had with the BU-12's last night."  
  
"Understood sir." She bit her lip. "I could use a vacation, and the Bermuda villa sounds perfect. I'm not sure about Karson, though."  
  
"I can handle Karson," replied Mallory easily. "All I have to do are mention women in bikinis, and he'll swim all the way to Bermuda."  
  
"And set a world's record doing it," said Grace.  
  
This brought a small smile to Acreman's face, and the rest of the stiffness flowed out of  
her. She stood slowly, and nodded to Mallory. "I'll go home then and pack."  
  
Mallory nodded and said, "I'll tell Brooks-Fenton to make the arrangements."  
  
After she left, Mallory looked at Grace. "Get your team together. We're headed for MegaTokyo."  



	2. Chapter 2

*************************************************  
  
**Ch apter 2  
**   
District 6  
MegaTokyo, Japan  
Friday December 21, 2035  
1:12am  
  
It was cold this time of year in the city. It hadn't snowed in several days, and what little remained was confined to the deepest shadows of alleys and walls. Even the most harden of the city's street people had found shelter, which meant there were few people around to see the latest Boomer rampage.  
  
The Boomers were a pair of advanced CU-5Ts that had broken out of a DARSTAR research lab late in the evening. The CU-5T was designed to perform both security and maintenance roles in the buildings they were assigned to. To downplay the fact it was a Boomer, it was designed and built to look almost human. The coal gray skin and the red-lensed eyes were dead giveaways, of course, but the design was thought to be a reliable and solid example of Boomer technology.  
  
Or it had been until tonight.  
  
The pair had destroyed several abandoned tenement buildings in the area, and was now in the process of rampaging through a business district. The number of people killed and injured would be limited to a few unfortunates living in the tenements and members of the ADP unlucky  
enough to be in the Boomer's path.  
  
It wasn't hard for Inspector Leon McNichols to track the Boomers - all he had to do was follow the wreckage they left in their wake. Behind him, the survivors of several AD Police squads that had already clashed with the Boomers followed in silence.  
  
Leon didn't blame them. The AD Police, hampered by idiotic orders and restrictions, were not having much luck slowing rampaging Boomers. The last six months had been nothing but a succession of out and out failures and half successes.  
  
Morale was low in the department, and still sinking. Too many officers were calling in sick, or quitting the force altogether. These days, it wasn't uncommon to work sixteen-hours shifts to keep the AD police units up to full strength. The press depicted them as gun happy idiots who were more of a menace to the citizens of MegaTokyo then the Boomers were. It wasn't going to be a happy Christmas this year around AD police headquarters.  
  
They reached an intersection and stopped. Most of the light was coming from the flaming wrecks of cars that had made the mistake of being parked in the wrong place at the wrong time. A vidphone booth had been turned into twisted rubble, and all the nearby storefronts had been torn apart.  
  
"Any sign of them?" Leon asked his partner, Daley Wong.  
  
The redhead shrugged his shoulders as he looked around. "I don't see them."  
  
"Any ideas?"  
  
An explosion off to Leon's right, half a block away, interrupted the conversation. Daley looked at Leon, shrugged again, and pointed in the direction of the explosion. "Maybe that way?"  
  
************  
**   
Above District 6  
MegaTokyo, Japan  
Friday, December 21, 2035  
1:17am  
  
The Knight Wing flew low over the buildings, heading toward the new explosions that lit up the night sky. A block and a half from the last explosion, the aircraft came to a hover a dozen meters over the roof of a six story office building. Four hardsuited figures dropped from the  
aircraft to the roof with quick and efficient motions. As soon as the last one touched the rooftop, the Knight Wing lifted quietly away into the darkness of the night sky.  
  
The quartet quickly moved to the edge of the roof, and stared down at the deserted street below. Nothing stirred below them, but though the audio pickups, they could hear the sounds of objects being destroyed, and the sounds of heavy footsteps.  
  
"Nene, what are the AD police bands saying?" asked Sylia.  
  
"Leon and Daley are tracking the Boomers now," replied Nene. "They've got a dozen really pissed ADP troopers with them, but no heavy firepower."  
  
"Typical," snarled Priss. "They always bring the least amount of firepower against the maximum threat."  
  
"It's not their fault, Priss," said Nene, quick to defend her fellow officers. "The AD Police are turning into a morass of bureaucratic ineptitude. These days, Leon's spending more time filling out paperwork then he is hunting Boomers."  
  
"We can discuss the value of the AD police later," said Sylia. "Right now, we have two Boomers to take down. Nene, where exactly are they?"  
  
"I've got one three hundred meters off to the right," Nene replied, pointing to a storefront near that video arcade. "The other one is in the second building down from us, on this side of the street. They read like CU 5Ts. Standard CU's have a heavy laser mounted in the right arm. The left arm has a taser and a grenade launcher built in. The grenade launcher has two rounds of tear gas. They have lighter armor then the BU series, and aren't that fast."  
  
"Priss, Linna," said Sylia. "You've got the Boomer in the building. Nene and I will take the one near the arcade. Any questions?" There were none. "Let's move out."  
  
************  
**   
Daley stared up at the four figures leaping from the rooftop of a building two blocks in front of him. "Hey Leon," he called out to his partner. "Your girlfriends are here."  
  
About time," grunted Leon, glancing up. He watched them land, especially the blue hardsuit, then turned to the senior AD trooper. "Form a defensive line at the next intersection." He turned back to Daley. "Any chance of getting reinforcements soon?"  
  
Daley shook his head. "Ditto to the chances of getting any K-suits out here before the next century. We are it."  
  
"Damn." Leon watched the troopers dash past him. "We can't keep doing this job if the bosses don't give us the tools we need!"  
  
Daley shrugged. "If the chief doesn't listen to you, he's sure as hell not going to listen to the rest of us."  
  
"After tonight, he will," growled Leon. "Or I'm going to make him wish he had."  
  
************  
**   
Priss and Linna cautiously approached the large hole the Boomer had made in the store's front. What had been the door laid in the middle of the street, a testament to the Boomer's amazing strength. They could still the Boomer inside the store, wrecking everything it could get its hands on from the amount of noise it was making.  
  
From the scattered albums littering the sidewalk, Priss figured the place had been a music store. _Sort of like my singing career these days_ , she thought wearily.  
  
"How do you want to do this?" asked Linna.  
  
Priss waited until the spike shooters settled into firing position before she answered. "I'll get his attention, and draw it out into the street. According to the data, These models don't have combat sensors, so you should be able to blindside and hamstring it quickly enough."  
  
"All right," replied Linna. "Just be careful."  
  
"Aren't I always? On the count of three. One . . . two . . . THREE!"  
  
Priss stepped into the open, her head up display quickly isolating the target. It had just finished destroying the large set of shelves in the back of the store. It turned as the Knight Saber moved into view.  
  
Most of its skin and clothing had been torn away in the firefights with the AD Police. It now looked like a zombie from an old horror movie. It stared at her for a fraction of a second, as if analyzing how much of a threat she was. In a fraction of a second, it decided Priss was a serious threat, and pointed its arm-mounted weapons at her.  
  
Priss was faster. A large gout of plasma from each spike shooter signaled the firing of several 40cm tungsten spikes at the Boomer. Two of the spikes tore away the Boomer's right arm in a fiery explosion. Two more spikes punched deep into its chest, while the last spike mangled the Boomer's left arm taser.  
  
A popping sound near Priss feet made her glance down. The Boomer had gotten off one round of tear gas, and now the area was rapidly filling with smoke. Before the smoke obscured it, Priss saw the Boomer charging at her, howling like a wounded beast.  
  
Priss jumped back, her leap taking her halfway across the street. As the CU-5T crashed out of the smoke, Priss fired again. Several spikes missed, but two more struck it in the left leg, and the Boomer staggered.  
  
A blur of green suddenly appeared off to the Boomer's right. Linna snapped her head forward, and the Boomer snarled as its left arm was severed by the Saber's ribbon cutters. It tried to rush the green hardsuit in an attempt to smash her up against the wall of the music store. Linna easily avoided the attack simply by jumping up and over the armless Boomer.  
  
The Boomer glared at her as she cleared it by more then a meter. At the high point of her jump, she fired both Wire daggers down into the Boomer. The laser edged blades punched deep into the Boomer's shoulders, generating another electronic scream from it. As Linna twisted her body to land, she sent a massive electrical charge through the wires.  
  
The Boomer shuddered as the electrical charge surged through its internal circuitry, destroying circuits, overloading memory chips, and burning wires. As Linna landed, the Wire daggers released from the Boomer, doing it even more damage, and flew back to her waiting hands.  
  
The Boomer was now shaking hard, as its internal components tried to overcome the damage inflicted on it. Priss ran up to it, activating her forearm rapier as she closed on it. "Here's an early Christmas present from the Knight Sabers, metalhead!" she shouted over the suit's loudspeaker.  
  
Before the CU-5T could react, Priss's right rapier had punched up through its jaw, into its main CPU. She withdrew the blade, stepped back, and swung the left blade in a short arc though the Boomer's neck.  
  
As the head fell away, it exploded, showering Priss with small chunks of metal and electronics. The body slowly collapsed onto its back, a smoking heap of parts.  
  
Linna landed next to Priss. "Nice finish."  
  
Priss turn to where the arcade stood. "We'd better see how Sylia and Nene are doing."  
  
************  
**   
Nene and Sylia saw the Boomer duck into an alley next to the arcade.  
  
"How do you want to handle this?" asked Nene.  
  
"According to the map," replied Sylia. "The alley's a dead end, so it's not going any-where." She glanced up at the flat roof of the arcade. "Does this Boomer model have thrusters?"  
  
"Not according to the specs I have. It could have been modified, though."  
  
"I'll take the risk." She pointed to the arcade's roof. "I'm going up there. You go to the alley and keep its attention on you. Linger around the entrance. If I can get behind it, we can trap it between us."  
  
"OK, but be careful."  
  
They sprinted most of the distance to the alley's entrance. Ten meters from the dark opening, Sylia activated her thrusters and launched herself toward the roof. Nene slowed to a cautious trot, bringing her hardsuit's hypersensors and Pulse strikers on-line.  
  
Nene reached the alley, and pressed up against the wall. Her mouth was dry as she said, "Ready here."  
  
"Let's do it."  
  
Nene nodded and stepped out into the open. As soon as she did so, she activated the hypersensors, and brought her hardsuit's barrier system up to standby. "Come out, come out, wherever you are," she muttered, her mind sorting through the data the hyper-sensors was relaying to her.  
  
The alley itself was only five meters wide, and filled with trash and debris that had accumulated over the years. Three trash dumpsters sat there, two ten meters to Nene's left, the other farther away, on the right. The surrounding walls were at least thirty meters tall, and twice as long, ending in a fifty-meter tall brick wall. The only illumination in the alley came from a weak security light over the back door of the arcade.  
  
There were no immediate signs of the Boomer, but the trash dumpsters limited the sensors. "Sylia," said Nene. "I'm not picking it up. Can you see it?"  
  
"No," whispered Sylia. "Move forward five meters. That should give you better results with your hypersensors."  
  
"OK."  
  
Nene stepped forward slowly through the small piles of trash her senses alert for anything. As she reached the first dumpster, her sensors caught a glimmer of movement near the dumpster farthest away. She had just enough time to recognize the Boomer before the Cyberdroid fired at her.  
  
She shifted to the right to avoid the beam of intense light. "Sylia!" she shouted. "It's charging!"  
  
"I see it," replied Sylia. "Stand by."  
  
The Boomer's sensors registered the descending form of the white Knight Saber too late to react. She landed gracefully off to the Boomers right, laserswords ready. The lasersword cut clean through the Boomer's right arm, sending it spinning off into the darkness. The CU-5T reacted with an electronic scream of rage, and threw a massive left cross at her face.  
  
Sylia dodged just before the Boomer's attack would have punched through her helmet. She heard the impact of the Boomer's fist as she moved, the sound of concrete shattering behind her quite audible in the night air. She brought her right arm around and up, tying to sever the Boomer's arm with her laser sword, but the Cyberdroid pulled its limb back in time.  
  
They continued to spar for several seconds, with the Boomer receiving the worst of the exchanges. Behind Sylia, Nene waited for a clear shot. Her Pulse strikers were ready, but the Boomer stayed too close to Sylia to fire. Nene wasn't sure the high frequency electrons wouldn't fry Sylia's suit, and Sylia herself in the process. The alley was too narrow for Nene to maneuver for another firing position.  
  
Sylia knew that she had to get clear. "On three, Nene," she said, disengaging the laserswords and gauging the distance between her and the Boomer. "One . . . two . . . "  
  
She leapt into the air, shouting "Three," at the same instance. She felt the blast of high frequency electrons pass below her as she tucked into a backflip. She heard the pops and cracks of overloading circuitry as the Boomer took the brunt of Nene's assault.  
  
Sylia landed next to Nene, and glanced at the Boomer. It was still standing, but smoke and sparks poured from every joint. A fine network of cracks had appeared in the armor, and the Boomer's eyes glowed weakly.  
  
Without a word, Sylia raised her arms, and fired her lasers. The two beams of concentrated light punched through the Boomer's weakened armor, and finished the job. The Boomer disintegrated into a heap of metal and circuitry.  
  
Priss and Linna reached the mouth of the alley just in time to watch Sylia deliver the finishing blow to the Boomer. The four watched the remains smoke and spark for several seconds in silence.  
  
"Well, that was easy," said Linna.  
  
"Too damn easy," growled Priss. "The AD police should have been able to handle this with no sweat."  
  
"Well, they didn't," said Sylia. "Let's tell the AD police the threat has been dealt with."  
  
They turned and left the alley. None of them saw the shadow appear on the arcade's roof, and stare down at the dead Boomer. After several seconds, the shadow shrugged and melted into the darkness.  
  
  



	3. Chapter 3

*************************************************  
  
 **Ch apter 3  
  
Over the Pacific Ocean  
90 Minutes from MegaTokyo  
December 21, 2035  
4:12am MegaTokyo Standard Time  
  
  
** "Sir? The Knights are ready for the briefing."  
  
Gregory Mallory opened his eyes slowly, and stared up at Brooks-Fenton's face. He nodded slowly, wiping the sleep from his eyes. "I'll be there in a minute."  
  
"Yes Sir."  
  
He slowly got out of the seat he'd spent the last four hours sleeping in, and stretched. His private cabin on the MALCORP plane was small, but comfortable. It was one of the very few items he enjoyed as the Megacorp's CEO. _It sure beats traveling in first class on a commercial flight_ , he thought with a smile. _In first class, they don't like you wearing green silk PJ's around the cabin_.  
  
He used the small bathroom, but didn't bother changing. He ambled back to the main cabin as if he was still at home. Nearly a dozen people were sitting around a large oval table, and he nodded to them as he sat in the empty seat at the head of the table. He waited until Brooks-Fenton placed a large glass mug of tea in front of him.  
  
"Good morning, Knights," he said, trying hard to stifle a yawn. "Everyone did get some sleep, right?" Several half-hearted replies greeted him. Most of them were dressed no better then he was. He nodded. "If we're lucky, we get this done, and be home in time for Christmas."  
  
He took a sip of the hot tea before he continued. "Time to get serious here, Knights," he said. "This is an ALPHA class mission briefing. Red and Blue teams have heard it before, but I want everyone on the same page before we hit MegaTokyo airspace." He glanced at each of the people around the table. "The first thing I want to do is introduce Mary Pierce, Mike Dawes, and Jose De La Cruz, from the West Coast Unit of the Black Knights." He motioned to the three sitting at the far end of the table. "They're filling for Fran's White Team, and will be designated as such."  
  
"Now, the mission." Mallory pressed a button on the table before him. In the center of the table, a shaft of light formed. The three-dimensional image of a young girl appeared in the shaft and began to slowly rotate. She looked to be in her early teens, with long brown hair and a happy expression on her pretty face.  
  
"Janie VanDell," said Mallory with emotion. "Fourteen years old. An excellent student, better then average athlete, and a polite, well-behaved girl. Her favorite color is blue, likes horses and reading, hates spinach and loud noises."  
  
"Her father was Doctor Nathan VanDell, who was killed three days in an explosion at his lab located near New York City. The explosion wasn't an accident."  
  
There was silence for a moment. Mallory continued. "Six hours after Doctor VanDell died, a small force of humans and Boomers raided the Doctor's house, eliminated or neutralize the security forces, and grabbed the girl."  
  
Jose De La Cruz frowned. He was a wiry man with a hooked nose and a brooding expression. "Why? What value does she have if her father is dead?"  
  
"Good question," replied Mallory. "We do know that Janie has a photographic memory, and she helped her father with his notes."  
  
"Have we found out yet what was VanDell working on when he was killed?" asked Marcus Jackson, a tall, broad-shouldered man with skin the color of old leather. "We didn't know when we tried to rescue Janie in New York."  
  
"We manage to locate one of Doctor VanDell's assistants five hours after the raid in New York," replied Mallory. "He had to attend the funereal of a relative in upper New York State, and was out of contact for two and a-half days. We managed to find him just before he went underground. He was scared, and after what he told us, I don't blame him."  
  
Harland Grace growled, "So tell us already!"  
  
"Doctor VanDell had perfected a viable personal force shield small enough to be worn by the average person."  
  
There was silence for a moment, mostly blank looks from the people around the table, until Nicky Yashida whistled. "He finally managed to do it, didn't he?" he asked.  
  
"You know about this?" asked Mallory.  
  
Yashida shook his head. "The actual product? No. But It doesn't surprise me."  
  
"Why not?" asked Grace.  
  
"VanDell was on the development team that managed to create the first stable force shield. It looks like he continued development on his own after the project was canceled."  
  
De La Cruz shrugged. "I don't see it. Force shields have been around as more then theory for what, ten, fifteen years, now. The ones I know about are clunky and not much use in a firefight. What's the big deal?"  
  
"The big deal is," said Mallory calmly. "The low energy requirement of this unit."  
  
Yashida nodded. "The biggest problem in using a force shield has been the incredible amount of energy it took to power it for any length of time. That's why they've been clunky and not much use in a firefight, until now. Looks like VanDell managed to finally solve that energy problem."  
  
"According to the assistant," continued Mallory. "The force shield generator VanDell worked on could fit in the palm of my hand. But the shield it creates could withstand the full energy discharge of a BU-55C's mouth laser at point blank range without shutting down."  
  
This brought a murmur of interest from the others. Yashida grinned. "I bet I could find a way to fit it into the Knights' hardsuits. Imagine being able to double the effective armor of the hardsuits without a major increase in weight."  
  
"Well," replied Grace. "Think about this, techboy. Think of a BU-12 able to take the firepower of an entire team of Knights with no problems."  
  
"Harland's right," said Mallory. "Boomers are tough enough now to take down. One equipped with VanDell's force shield would be almost impossible to take down short of massive firepower. A squad of them. . . ." He let the sentence hang there, and watched the faces of the people around the table.  
  
"Back to the mission. We tried to intercept the kidnappers when they made to leave New York, but ran into stronger opposition then we expected. We managed to eliminate most of the security Boomers, but were forced to pull out when the enemy deployed half a dozen BU-12C's to cover his retreat."  
  
Pierce nodded. She was tall, thin, with serious gray eyes and long red hair. "And Fran's team caught the ire of the Boomers."  
  
Mallory nodded. "By the time we pulled back and regrouped, the female Boomer had managed to slip her and Janie out of the area. We found out later the pair took a flight to MegaTokyo."  
  
"Do you think GENOM is behind this?" asked De La Cruz.  
  
"We don't know. I won't lie to you, Knights. Quincy himself could be behind this, a faction inside GENOM independent of the Chairman, or an outside group. We have people on the street right now trying to scrap together some answers for us, but I have no idea how much success they'll have."  
  
"So, we're going in blind?" asked Pierce in surprise.  
  
"Essentially, yes."  
  
"I don't like this," said De La Cruz.  
  
"Neither do I, Jose," replied Mallory. He turned his head to look at Brooks-Fenton. "Who's the head of the MegaTokyo security office?"  
  
"A Jeena Malso. She's a veteran of the MegaTokyo AD police - they handle their Boomer cases -" She glanced down at a reader in her lap. "Retired on a disability pension -- she lost an arm in the line of duty several years ago. She was hired six months after she left the force, became head of the security office two years ago. Her record shows she's smart, tough, and effective. If anyone can pull in a lead on Janie, she can."  
  
"Thank you, Marla. Any other questions?"  
  
Grace nodded. "What about the local talent, namely the Knight Sabers? I've read the reports our people have pulled together on them, and they could cause us trouble."  
  
"We avoid contact with them - for now. I have several contacts putting out feelers in MegaTokyo, so I don't want us engaging in a full scale battle with them, if we can avoid it."  
  
"Oh? What do you have in mind?"  
  
Mallory shook his head slowly. "I'm not ready to reveal that yet. Any other comments?"  
  
There were none, and Mallory said. "I want Blue and White Teams to make a final check on their hardsuits now. I want Red Team to stay for a couple of minutes. That's all."  
  
The other teams filed out of the cabin, leaving Brooks-Fenton, Jackson, and Yashida alone with Mallory. He looked at them carefully. "Any comments?"  
  
"Greg, I don't like the idea of being on GENOM's home turf," said Jackson slowly.  
  
"Neither do I, Marcus," replied Mallory slowly, staring into his mug of tea. "But there's one scared fourteen-year-old somewhere in that city, and we are going to find her."  
  
"But is that the real reason?" asked Yashida quietly. He was thin man in his early twenties whose Asian ancestry showed in his facial features, while his Anglo ancestry was shown in his shoulder length blond hair. "I mean, a chance to secure a prize like a compact force shield is real tempting, Boss."  
  
"I know." Mallory took a deep breath. "Marla, care to add something to the discussion?"  
  
"The current state of Force shields is five years behind Doctor VanDell's work," she said slowly. "The question is, are you willing to risk that fourteen-year old's life for the information, assuming she has it?"  
  
Mallory shook his head. "My sole goal is to get Janie back home, safe and sound. Anything else takes second place. And I want you to remind me of that, should I start acting against that goal."  
  
Jackson nodded. "If you do," he said with a grin. "I'll wallop you into next Tuesday like I use to do."  
  
"Done." Mallory stood up. "Better go check the hardsuits one last time before we land."  
  
 ************  
  
MegaTokyo Airport  
MegaTokyo, Japan  
Friday, December 21, 2035  
7:17am  
  
  
** "Did we really have to be here THIS early?" asked Nene, trying hard not to yawn, and failing miserably.  
  
"You're the one that wanted to come along," replied Sylia, looking up from her newspaper.  
  
"But did Mackie have to catch such an early flight?"  
  
They were sitting at a table in a cafe‚ inside the international terminal. Despite the relative earliness of the day, the terminal was crowded with passengers and airport employees.  
  
Sylia sipped her cup of coffee. "It was the only flight due in today that any seats left. When are you due in to work?"  
  
Nene glanced down at her AD police uniform, and grimaced. "Nine thirty."  
  
Sylia glanced at her watch. "If the plane's on time, he should be here in about twenty minutes."  
  
Nene sighed and sipped her tea. She looked around carefully, then whispered to Sylia "Anything on that Boomer attack last night?"  
  
Sylia didn't look up. "Nothing we didn't already know."  
  
"Leon looked pissed."  
  
"I don't blame him. The AD police. . . ." Sylia stopped and stared at something over Nene's right shoulder, a note of interest in her eyes. Nene turned and looked behind her, but saw nothing but a steady flow of people.  
  
She turned back to Sylia. "What's wrong?"  
  
Sylia stood up. "I just saw an old friend of Leon's."  
  
"Who, Daley?"  
  
"No, Jeena Malso." She folded her paper and walked out of the cafe, trailed by a puzzled Nene. They quickly merged into the flow of traffic, with Sylia taking the lead.  
  
"Leon's old partner?" asked Nene in a low voice. "Are you sure?"  
  
Sylia looked at her. "There can't be too many one-armed women who are over two meters tall living in MegaTokyo, right?"  
  
"Er . . . right. But why are we following her?"  
  
"Because there's been a major attempt to locate a certain girl in the last twenty-four hours here in MegaTokyo. Jeena's working for the corporation funding the search."  
  
"Maybe the CEO's hard up for a date," replied Nene with a shrug.  
  
Sylia ignored the comment. "Not any girl, one fourteen year old girl by the name of Janie VanDell."  
  
"Now, why would anyone want a fourteen-year-old girl?"  
  
Sylia shrugged. "I don't know. Fargo filled me in last night, before our mission against those Boomers. MALCORP is bankrolling the search, and they're throwing around a lot of money to find this girl."  
  
"How does Fargo know?"  
  
"Because he's one of the ones involved in the search. He told me, just in case MALCORP wants us to retrieve her."  
  
They stopped at an intersection. Sylia glanced around, but Nene spotted Jeena first. She tugged on Sylia's arm. "Over there!" she hissed.  
  
The woman had just past through a door marked PRIVATE GATE: AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY. A pair of security Boomers stood near the door, along with several humans that Sylia quickly identified as security types. Without slowing, Sylia guided Nene away from the door and its guard, and over to a waiting area with a large window overlooking the tarmac.  
  
"Now what?" whispered Nene.  
  
Sylia said nothing, but watched several planes until she spotted the one she was looking for. A large sleek design with the word MALCORP painted on the side was maneuvering into place. She whispered to Nene, "Over there."  
  
They watched the passengers deplane quickly. There were over a dozen of them, both men and women. The analytical part of Sylia's mind noted that they were all human, no Boomers among them. Another thing she noted that several of them walked with the careful grace that only comes from spending time in a hardsuit. Sylia's eyes narrowed as she watched the rest of the passengers deplane. Her instincts were alert to the sight before her.  
  
Jeena was standing at the bottom of the stairs, her hair blowing wildly in the wind. When a tall, lean man reached the bottom of the steps, Jeena stepped forward to meet him, her hand outstretched. The man took it, and they shook hands. They talked for several minutes, then Jeena led the man and the others to several cars that had pulled up while the passengers had been deplaning. Within minutes, the cars drove away, leaving the tarmac empty save for airport personnel.  
  
"Now what?" asked Nene. "We watched a bunch of corporate suits get off an airplane. Big deal."  
  
"It very well could be," replied Sylia, turning away from the window. "When you get into work, I want to dig up all you can on MALCORP and Janie VanDell."  
  
"Well, OK. But I don't know why you want the info."  
  
"Call it a hunch." Sylia glanced down at her watch. "We'd better be going. Mackie's plane lands in ten minutes."  
  
 ************  
  
MegaTokyo Airport Highway  
MegaTokyo, Japan  
December 21, 2035  
7:38am  
  
** Mallory waited until the small convoy had left the airport tarmac before he addressed Malso. "What's the latest on the search for Janie VanDell?"  
  
Malso, sitting in the seat across from Mallory, looked tired. "We've got feelers out, plus my contacts inside the AD Police are working hard on it. But nothing yet."  
  
Mallory nodded. "In a city this big, It would be difficult to expect immediate results."  
  
Malso shrugged. "The word's out on the street that we're looking for the girl. It's a sure bet that the bad guys are busy burying themselves deep right now."  
  
"It can't be helped," replied Mallory. "We're not playing this one in our own ball park."  
  
Brooks-Fenton asked Malso "How's GENOM reacting to the search?"  
  
"Hard to tell. Quincy's not one to advertise his next move."  
  
"Increase the pressure," said Mallory, leaning back in his seat. "We can't back off now. I want to push as hard as I can before GENOM pushes back."  
  
"Assuming they're behind Janie's kidnaping," replied Malso.  
  
"Either way, it's a sure bet that GENOM will take an interest in the situation. So, we can expect trouble. What's the current security status of our holdings here?"  
  
"Level Two Yellow."  
  
"As of right now, it's Level One Red. I want our people ready for anything GENOM might throw at us."  
  
Malso reached for the phone. "What about the people we have looking for VanDell?"  
  
"I want all the freelancers on our list looking for her."  
  
"All of them?"  
  
Mallory nodded. "Also, Increase the reward for Janie to a million Yen."  
  
Malso's eyebrows went up. "I may go out on the street for that."  
  
Mallory shook his head. "I need you to ride herd on the search. What's the likelihood of the AD police getting involved should this turn into a shooting war?"  
  
"Right now, the AD police are a joke," replied Malso, the disgust clear in her voice. "They've been saddled with more restrictions then a nymph in a nunnery. Right now, the pizza delivery guys have better firepower then they do. They're having problems with simple Boomer outbreaks they would've handled with no sweat two years ago. The current chief doesn't know his head from a hole in the ground, and morale so damn low, you'll have to dig to find it."  
  
"That bad?" asked Brooks-Fenton with a straight face.  
  
"If you're talking Personnel, they are the best. The senior field commanders, McNichols and Wong, are good at taking down Boomers. But the big boys don't want them doing too good a job."  
  
"Make the call, Jeena," said Mallory quietly. "We have enough problems to deal with right now."  
  
They rode in silence for the rest of the trip.  
  
 ************  
  
MegaTokyo Airport  
MegaTokyo, Japan  
December 21, 2035  
7:49am  
  
** Mackie Stingray looked around for his sister in the crowd, but the mass of humanity made it difficult to pick her out. He adjusted the carryall's strap, and began to look for a place he could sit for a couple of minutes. _Where could she be?_ he thought, just as his eyes found a row of empty seats off to his left. _Could she have gotten stuck in traffic, or -  
  
_ "MACKIE!"  
  
He turned just in time to catch sight of Nene dashing the last few meters between them. Before he could react, she barreled into him like a runaway truck. In an eye blink, Mackie was sprawled on the carpet, Nene lying on top of him. "Hi Nene," he said weakly. "Miss Me?"  
  
Nene stared down at him. "Sorry, Mackie," she replied, a faint blush coloring her cheeks. "I sort . . . of . . . you know, misjudge the . . . er . . . distance."  
  
In the past, Mackie might have enjoyed this, but the flight from Germany had been long. "Can I get up, please?"  
  
"Let him up, Nene," said Sylia, a faint smile on her lips. Mackie knew her well enough that she was trying hard not to laugh. "You're drawing a crowd."  
  
Nene shot to her feet like a rocket, the blush becoming stronger. Mackie got up on his own, slower then Nene. "Hey Sis," he said, brushing himself off.  
  
Sylia still looked amused. "How was your flight?"  
  
"Tiring. I want a shower, then sleep for several hours."  
  
"Good. You have your luggage?"  
  
"Yep."  
  
"Then let's get out of here. We have to drop Nene off at work first."  
  
"Aw, Sylia."  
  
"Don't worry," replied Sylia, carefully putting on her sunglasses. "You can ride in the passenger seat with Mackie."  
  
"Great!"  
  
Mackie sighed. "How's things been lately?" he asked Sylia.  
  
"Busy. In all areas. I'll fill in the details when we're in the car."  



	4. Chapter 4

*************************************************  
  
**Ch apter 4  
**   
GENOM Tower  
MegaTokyo, Japan  
Friday, December 21, 2035  
8:26am  
  
Quincy stared out the office window. "What is the latest on MALCORP's search for Janie VanDell?"  
  
A tall, thin man with thick glasses answered him. "They haven't found her yet."  
  
Quincy exhaled slowly. "Mr. Faust, I knew that much when I awoke this morning. How close are they to finding her?"  
  
Faust adjusted his glasses. "Mallory and his people landed at the airport about an hour ago. We've just learned they've planned to increase their presence on the street. They've also increased their reward for finding the girl to a million Yen."  
  
"Indeed?" Quincy stared out the window for a full ten seconds before he continued. "I want our security at all GENOM facilities increased to maximum."  
  
"Yes sir."  
  
"What has GENOM New York discovered about the `event' that occurred on the morning of the 20th?"  
  
"It appears that half a dozen BU-55C were escorting a girl that fit the description of Janie VanDell out of the Fairline Hotel. They had managed to reach the street when they were attacked by at least half a dozen individuals wearing advanced design hardsuits."  
  
Quincy turned to look at Faust. "Black hardsuits with dark gold highlights?"  
  
"Yes Sir."  
  
Quincy turned back to the window. "What happened then?"  
  
"The entire unit of BU-55Cs was quickly eliminated, but then another half dozen BU-12C Combat Boomers were released from a nearby tractor trailer. They drew the attention of the attackers until the sole C-series Female Boomer and the girl escaped."  
  
"Has the destroyed Boomers been traced yet?"  
  
"Yes Sir." Faust adjusted his glasses before continuing. "The serial numbers match models that have been reported missing or destroyed over the last two years, from GENOM facilities all over the world."  
  
"I see." Quincy turned and sat. He leveled his gaze at Faust. "Someone is using GENOM to hide themselves, and I don't like it."  
  
"No Sir."  
  
"Alert all GENOM towers. I want all reports on missing or destroyed Boomers for the last three years reexamined. Any reports that cannot be verified, I want forwarded here. I want a team of our best researchers to pull apart those reports, starting with the ones `discovered' in New York. I want a solid number of Boomers that GENOM is missing."  
  
"Yes Sir."  
  
"I want the report in twenty-four hours."  
  
Faust's mouth dropped open in shock, but he quickly recovered. "Anything else?"  
  
"I want you to head this project. You have the highest priority for the next twenty-four hours. Dismissed."  
  
Faust left quickly, and Quincy turned and stared out the window again. His smile was cold as he watched the city below him.  
  
************  
**   
G &B Research lab G-46  
MegaTokyo, Japan  
Friday, December 21, 2035  
8:57am  
  
Mclaren stalked down the corridor, his face twisted up in anger.  
  
The corridor was narrow, its walls a dull gray in color. The floor was the same shade of gray. Even the ceiling was gray. Even the sliding doors he was approaching was the same gray. The only thing that wasn't gray was the white lab coat he wore. He hated it all - the gray corridors, the lack of female . . . companionship, but most of all, he hated the man he was working for.  
  
The doors opened as he reached them. He passed through them without slowing. "Bradley!" he snapped in English. "What in hell do you want now?"  
  
The man he was addressing was standing on a platform in the middle of the room. He turned slowly to look at Mclaren. Tall and lean, Carlton Bradley looked every bit a successful businessman. _He also has the soul of a snake,_ thought Mclaren. _Worse then his father ever was_.  
  
"Ah, Doctor Mclaren," replied Bradley, also in English. "I have some interesting information you should be interested in."  
  
"And what's that?"  
  
"We have come into possession of plans for a stronger force shield."  
  
"Oh?" Mclaren put as much contempt as he could into his voice. He didn't dare ask how Bradley came into possession of the plans. "Better then those shield generators you had me install on these two CU-5Ts from DARSTAR?"  
  
"Oh, much stronger, Doctor, much stronger." If Bradley was irritated at Mclaren, he didn't show it. "If the figures check out, they should be strong enough to withstand five times the punishment of the designs in the CU-5Ts."  
  
"Five times? At what power cost? Those generators took 30 percent of the CU-5T's total power output, and barely lasted four minutes against simple firearms!"  
  
"It was disappointing that the shields had failed by the time the Knight Sabers arrived on the scene," replied Bradley with a shrug. "But the figures show that we can cut back the power usage with the new design to as low as 15 percent."  
  
Mclaren glared at Bradley. "When can I see the design?"  
  
"In a couple of days." Bradley's face became a mask, and his voice grew cold. "Remember, Doctor. You are here only at my sufferance. As far as the rest of the world is concerned, you're still sitting in prison, serving a thirty-year term for designing an illegal combat Boomer. I got you out with no one the wiser, I can put you back just as easily."  
  
"Has anyone told you that you're a real Bastard?"  
  
Bradley's smile was cold. "My parents were married to each other before I was born, despite my father's extra . . . activities. I will talk to you tomorrow. Good bye, Doctor." With the last word still echoing in the chamber, Bradley's image faded from the platform.  
  
Mclaren clenched his fists and stared at the platform for a long time.  
  
************  
**   
AD Police Headquarters  
MegaTokyo, Japan  
Friday, December 21, 2035  
9:09am  
  
Nene slipped into the main squad room unnoticed by the rest of the officers. "Hey guys!" she said brightly. "How are things?. . . . " Her voice trailed off as she realized that everyone was looking at the chief's office, despite the fact the shades had been drawn. She slid up to one of the officers nearest the door. "Hey, Rob!" she hissed. "What's happening in the chief's office?"  
  
Robert Madson, one of the AD police's computer techs, whispered to her out of the corner of his mouth. "Ten minutes ago, Leon came through here like a rampaging Boomer, and made a beeline for the chief's office. He slammed the door shut and pulled the shades."  
  
"And that's it?"  
  
"We haven't heard any shots yet, so I guess the Chief's still breathing."  
  
Nene opened her mouth to argue, but changed her mind. "It's about last night's Boomer incident in District 6, isn't it?"  
  
Madson nodded and readjusted his glasses. "The final AD casualties' list was ten dead, another fifteen wounded. About the same numbers for the civilians who got caught in the crossfire. So, Leon's got reason to be pissed."  
  
"Oh no," said Nene in dismay. "Did they manage to stop them?"  
  
"The Knight Sabers showed up and took down both Boomers very quickly. I don't think that helped Leon's temper any."  
  
The door to the chief's office flew open, and Leon stalked out, his face a mask of fury. Daley trailed behind, looking stunned.  
  
"I think it's time to clear out," murmured Madson. "See you later, Nene." With that, the officer slipped out of the room.  
  
Leon's stride didn't slow as he headed for the door. Nene thought about speaking to him before he got past her, but the hard look he gave her decided for her. She stepped aside and smiled weakly at him, but he ignored her and strode out of the room.  
  
She stared out after him, then decided she needed to talk to him. Before she could move, she felt a hand on her arm. She turned to see a worried-looking Daley standing there.  
  
"We have to talk, Nene," he said grimly. "Let's go to the cafeteria. I'm buying."  
  
************  
**


	5. Chapter 5

*************************************************  
  
 **Ch apter 5  
  
Warehouse #41526584  
Yokohama Warehouse District  
MegaTokyo, Japan  
Friday, December 21, 2035  
9:14am  
  
** Mallory watched as the hardsuits were unloaded from the specially designed packing crates. Brooks-Fenton and Jackson stood next to him.  
  
The warehouse was buried among a hundred others in an industrial park located on the edge of the district. Despite its age, it was still sound and secured. A large truck stood in the center of the warehouse. Most of the unloading was being done by the Knights themselves, aided with an equal number of technicians. For as long as the Knights stayed in MegaTokyo, this would be their headquarters.  
  
"What's the earliest the hardsuits can be ready?" asked Mallory.  
  
"Give them another hour to unpack the suits," said Jackson. "Two more hours to bring the systems on-line, and another two hours to fix any problems. They should be ready by three this afternoon."  
  
Mallory nodded. "Good. Marla, how does my schedule look for the next several days?"  
  
"You have a dinner for this evening with the senior members of MALCORP Japan office at seven o'clock. Tomorrow, you're touring several of the properties MALCORP operates here. There are several invitations from other corporations for meetings at your convenience. Malso is pulling intelligence reports together on those corporations for our review."  
  
"Any from GENOM?"  
  
"Not yet, But I suspect it'll be here before the day is out."  
  
"Pick out the best three invitations, and tell them I accept. The others apologize to profusely, and ask if they will meet with a representative of mine. If GENOM does pass along an invitation, accept it. I want to see Quincy, face to face."  
  
"And who are you going to send to those meetings you managed to avoid?" asked Jackson.  
  
"You and a couple of the other Knights."  
  
"Great."  
  
"You're an Executive Vice President of MALCORP," reminded Mallory. "It would look bad if I sent a simple flunky."  
  
"So you're going to send a complex flunky instead," replied Jackson, without a hint of rancor.  
  
"Exactly," said Mallory with a smile. "And if you complain, I'll send Malso along as your bodyguard."  
  
"I give in. I'll go quietly, Boss."  
  
"What about Malso?" asked Brooks-Fenton. "Do we include her in on the fact the Knights are here?"  
  
Mallory's face became thoughtful. They had dropped Malso off at the MALCORP office before coming here. "We keep this on a need to know basis for now. Right now, she doesn't need to know."  
  
"Understood sir."  
  
Mallory turned to Jackson. "Tell the Knights that once the hardsuits are on-line to get some rest. I want all teams ready to move out by midnight. Hopefully we'll have something for them to go after by then."  
  
He pulled out an envelope and handed it to Jackson. "I want you and Nicky to visit someone about eleven tonight and give them this. The address is on the envelope. Wear you hardsuits when you do - I want this man to take you seriously."  
  
"Sure Boss." Jackson looked at the envelope. "Just one question though. What is it?"  
  
"A message for the Knight Sabers. The man you're delivering this to is a contact of theirs. Name's Fargo. He'll make sure the Knight Sabers get it." He held up a small transmitter, "Also, attach this to him, without him noticing, when you give him the envelope."  
  
Jackson gave him a long searching look. "Let me guess, you're going to play Captain Solo again, right?"  
  
"I need to get a feel for the city, and the players."  
  
"Don't give me that. I know you too damn well." He broke out in a grin. "You want to go bouncing around MegaTokyo in a hardsuit because it's fun."  
  
Greg smiled. "That's part of the reason."  
  
"You're the Boss." He pocketed the envelope. "Me and Nicky will make sure our man is suitable impressed with our style. What are you going to do now?"  
  
"Me?" Mallory's smile became larger. "I'm going to visit an old friend. See you in a while."  
  
 ************  
  
AD Police Headquarters  
District 3  
Friday, December 21, 2035  
9:23am  
  
** "HE DID WHAT?"  
  
The Cafeteria was almost deserted at this time of the morning, but there were still enough people around to turn and stare at Nene's shout of disbelief. Daley gripped her arm and hissed, "Will you keep it down?"  
  
Nene leaned toward Daley, and repeated her question in a whisper. "Leon did what?"  
  
Daley released his grip, and sat back in the booth. "He quit. Resigned, abdicated, renounce his position -"  
  
"I get the point, Daley," growled Nene. "But why?"  
  
"Last night, the call we had in district 6?"  
  
Nene nodded. "I heard on the television. A couple of CU-5Ts, or something similar, right?"  
  
Daley nodded. "We should have been able to handle a couple of those types, with no heavy weapons or help from the Knight Sabers."  
  
"So what happened?"  
  
"When we got the call, Leon told me to set up a blocking force at one end of the street the Boomers were traveling along. He planned to use the other half of the units to force the Boomers toward us, and then catch them in a crossfire." He paused to look down at the coffee cup before him. "I set up right where we agreed, and waited for the Boomers to come to us."  
  
"And it went wrong?"  
  
"Very wrong." He took a sip of the coffee, then looked at Nene. "Five minutes after we set up, Leon reported the Boomers were heading for my position. He told us that he hadn't shot at them yet, so they were still intact. Thirty seconds later, we saw them coming at us. Because this design didn't have thrusters, I waited until they were fifty meters from us before I ordered the troopers to open fire."  
  
"But the Boomers didn't go down, did they?"  
  
"No." His stare was making Nene uncomfortable. "I had two dozen troopers firing at those damn Boomers, and the bullets just bounced off them."  
  
"They had extra armor?" asked Nene, thinking quickly about the Boomers the Knight Sabers fought last night. They hadn't looked as if they had extra armor on their frames . . .  
  
Daley shook his head. "They each had a force shield strong enough to deflect our fire for several minutes."  
  
"A force shield?" Nene's eyes widen as she realized what he was saying. "Are you sure?"  
  
"I'm sure. I stood there and watched several hundred assault rounds deflected off the Boomers as if they were raindrops."  
  
"But that's not possible!" Nene hissed, fighting to keep her voice low. "The technology is not advanced enough to equip a Boomer with a force shield!"  
  
"I thought the same way until last night."  
  
"Then what happened?"  
  
Daley took another sip from his coffee. "Leon showed up, and we caught them in a crossfire like we had planned We hammered them for several more minutes before their shields gave way, and we started to finally damaging them."  
  
"But you didn't finish them off."  
  
"We didn't get the chance. When our fire slackened to change clips, the Boomers charged the blocking force. They managed to get in among us, and it got nasty." He sipped his coffee yet again, then looked down into the cup, as if looking for something. "We lost three officers in fifteen seconds. Then the Boomers took off down the street, and we're left with more body bags to fill."  
  
"And Leon quit over that?"  
  
"Not entirely. I think last night was the final straw." He looked up at her again."Nene, these new rules are killing us out there. If we had the support Chief Todo use to give us, we could have nailed these Boomers before they did half the damage they caused last night."  
  
"What about the Boomers remains? Have they been examined for the shield generators? Maybe if you showed the Chief what you went up against, he'd relax the rules."  
  
"Tried that already. DARSTAR reclaimed the Boomers before we got a chance to look them over, and the Chief told us not to press them."  
  
"And that sent Leon off?"  
  
"Like a volcano. He didn't hold back, told the chief to go to hell, then got really abusive. At the end, he told the chief to take the job, and stick it. He then stalked out."  
  
"So, why tell me all this?" Nene looked around. "I'm not a very important person around here."  
  
"Oh yes, you are," said Daley with a small smile. "I'm now the AD Police's senior field commander, and as of five minutes ago, you're a Sergeant. And you are now the AD Police's new Computer Security Officer."  
  
"WHAT?"  
  
"You know the ADP computers systems better then the designers do, Nene. The first thing we need to do is secure our own data systems."  
  
"Who am I replacing?"  
  
Daley smiled. "No one. The position's been open for six months now. You'll have one other person in your department, and for some reasons I won't go into now, he can't accept the position as head of the department. But he's a solid, reliable guy who won't mind you taking over."  
"I. . . all right," replied Nene. "I'll accept the promotion, and the new position."  
  
"Don't thank me yet. I need you to do some stuff for me, the same way you use to do for Leon."  
  
Nene sighed. "All right. What's the first?"  
  
"Hack into Leon's personal files, and make a note that's he's on vacation."  
  
"What?"  
  
"It shouldn't be a problem. I know he's got at least a month's worth of vacation time he hasn't used."  
  
"But he quit."  
  
"Nene, only four people know that. You, Me. Leon, and the Chief. The Chief knows squat about the computer system here, Leon's not going to be around for a while, and I'm not going to tell anyone."  
  
"Then you think he'll be back?"  
  
"He had better be," growled Daley. "I'm not cut out for field command. Give me a nice involved investigation any day. But Leon's born for this type of responsibility. In his case, it's a large dose of duty, a touch of looking cool for the girls, and blowing up things."  
  
"I never heard Leon described that way," replied Nene with a small smile.  
  
"I know him better then most. Give him several days, and he'll be back. And I'll be glad to give the job back."  
  
"OK, Daley, I'll do it."  
  
"Good." Daley leaned forward. "The second thing I need to you to do is organize a small group of the AD Police Computer people to do some `special jobs'."  
  
Nene eyes narrowed. "Like what?"  
  
"Like breaking into certain corporation data banks, and retrieving information on Boomers."  
  
Nene just stared at him in disbelief. Daley sighed. "I see you want more details before you'll agree."  
  
"Yes. A lot more details!"  
  
"Fine." Daley drained his cup. "We are facing new Boomer designs every day, and GENOM doesn't supply a lot of data to us about them. We need to know about as much as we can about these designs, find their weakness, and develop tactics to fit in with what resources we have on hand."  
  
Nene closed her eyes. "And you're not going to tell anyone else where you're getting the data from."  
  
"Scouts' honor. I'm tired of filling body bags."  
  
"All right." Nene was slightly surprised as she spoke those words. "I'll do it on three conditions."  
  
"Name them."  
  
"First, all the data and other stuff we find go from me to you directly. No middlemen, no one else."  
  
"Agreed, but if Leon comes back, we include him on this little operation."  
  
Nene nodded. "Second, I want to keep the identities of the group members I select for this operation to myself. You, or Leon, don't try to find out who's in my group."  
  
"Fair enough. And the third?"  
  
"We're going to need equipment, supplies, and a location to work out of. We can't do it here, and take the chance to have anyone trace it back to us."  
  
"I've got contacts," replied Daley, standing up. "Anything else?"  
  
"Give me a couple of days to pull a group together, and we'll take it from there."  
  
"Good." Nene thought Daley looked more relaxed then he had several minutes ago. "We'll take later. See you." He walked away.  
  
Nene nodded to him, and stood up slowly. Her mind was already working on the new problems Daley had presented to her. She smiled. Things had just gotten interesting . . .  
  
 ************  
  
Raven's Garage  
Timex City  
Friday, December 21, 2035  
9:56am  
  
** Priss was tired. She hadn't gotten much sleep the night before, because of the Boomers assault in District 6. It didn't help any she had to be at Raven's garage early so Dr. Raven could make some adjustments to her cycle. He'd insisted on this morning because of several other projects he was involved in would take the rest of the day.  
  
She leaned on her bike, and tried to stop yawning. Dr. Raven had opened his garage as usual. But for some reason, he kept being interrupted by phone calls. He'd just started making the last of the adjustments when the phone rang again. Mumbling something about strangling someone named Bell, he stalked off to answer the phone in his small office.  
  
Through the small office window, Priss could see him waving his free hand in irritation as he talked loudly into the phone. She smiled tiredly as she wondered who was on the receiving end of the tirade. _I hope it's some GENOM telemarketer. By the time Pop's finished with him, he'll be singing soprano_.  
  
Her smile faded as she thought about music. Things hadn't been going well lately in THAT area of her life. Near the end of October, the rest of the band had marched into her dressing room at Hot Legs, and told her that she was out of the group. She winced at the memories of the argument, and her fury at the guys for the "Betrayal," as she called it.  
  
The band members had responded to her tirade by taking turns dragging out every practice she'd missed, sets they had to cut short because she'd run off somewhere, and performances they had to cancel, all because she couldn't be found. Even Kaho, the laid backed drummer, let his anger show as he told her bluntly that she was becoming too much of a liability for the band to shoulder. She stalked out of the dressing room after that, and hadn't been back to Hot Legs since.  
  
 _What am I going to do now?_ she thought. _Start again with a new band? Not likely. No one else wants me. GENOM has seen to that_.  
  
Her blue funk dissolved as she watched a large car turn onto the road that ran in front of Raven's garage. It slowed to a stop in front of the garage door, and the car's four doors opened. Priss straightened, and watched with interest.  
  
Four people got out. Two Priss quickly tagged as bodyguards, having neither the size nor bulk of a disguised Boomer. The third was a slim, attractive woman, with red hair and bright green eyes that reminded Priss of a mature Nene, in a severe business suit. She deferred to a tall and lean man with dark hair cut short and away from his face. He wore sunglasses, and something about the way he moved peaked Priss's interest.  
  
He walked into the garage, trailed by the woman and one of the bodyguards. The other one stayed out near the car. They looked around slowly, all three for different reasons, before the man spotted Priss leaning against her bike.  
  
The leader removed his sunglasses. In the glare from the overhead lights, Priss noticed that one of his eyes was green blue in color, while the other was a cold gray. He smiled at her. "Excuse me, Miss," he said in stilted, but fluent Japanese. "Is Doctor Raven around?"  
  
"He's in his office over there," Priss replied in English. "He shouldn't be more then a couple of minutes."  
  
If the man was surprised, he didn't show it. "We can wait a couple of minutes," he replied in English.  
  
"What do you want with Pops?" Priss asked, pushing herself off the bike to stand next to it.  
  
The man smiled. "You call him Pops?"  
  
Priss shrugged. "Sure, everyone does."  
  
"I doubt that. When I was younger, I use to call him Pops, and he'd get irritated and grumpy. I doubt age has mellowed him any."  
  
"It hasn't." Priss managed to look casual, but her thoughts were anything but. _When he was younger? He knows Pops?  
  
_ "That's what I thought. You know him for long?"  
  
Priss began to fell uncomfortable under the man's gaze. "Four or five years. He keeps my motorcycle running."  
  
"And I bet you manage to keep Pops more then busy on a regular basis with your cycle."  
  
"I do my fair share." She folded her arms. "Here he comes now."  
  
Raven was still mumbling something about Bell when he strode out of the office. He slowed his pace as he saw the visitors. "Can I help you?" he asked bluntly, as he stopped several meters from the trio.  
  
The man smiled at him. "Your eyesight's going, Pops," he said lightly. "Or you memory. I still have that toy Boomer you made for my tenth birthday."  
  
Priss saw Raven stiffen, and his jaw dropped in surprise. "Greg?" he whispered. "Greg Mallory?"  
  
"The same, Pops." The man held out a hand. "Mother told me to say hello."  
  
Raven stepped forward and took the offered hand. Mallory turned it into a warm hug. "It's good to see you, Pops. It's been what, twelve years?"  
  
They released the hug, and Raven stepped back. Priss saw the older man's eyes watering. "About that. How's your mother?"  
  
"Well. It took her some time to get over Father's death, but I found her a project to occupy her mind. I think she's always been more comfortable in the lab then she ever was at social gatherings."  
  
"That's true. What brings you back here?"  
  
"Business. MALCORP has some investments here, and I'm thinking about expanding the operation some."  
  
Priss sighed loudly enough to earn a glare from Raven. Mallory smiled at Priss again, and she felt the urge to punch him. It must have shown on her face, because Mallory said, "Why don't you take care of this young lady first, and then we'll talk?"  
  
"I won't be long. Care to wait in my office?"  
  
"Sure." He turned to the bodyguard. "Tell Remus we'll be in the office."  
  
The man nodded and walked out to talk to the other bodyguard. Mallory guided the woman over to the office, while Raven pulled a tool from a pocket. He knelt beside Priss's bike, and began to make adjustments. Priss squatted beside him.  
  
"Who's the suit?" she asked.  
  
"The son of an old colleague," he replied tersely.  
  
"I figure that out," she hissed. "But who is he?"  
  
"Later. Are you going to see Sylia today?"  
  
"I hadn't planned on it."  
  
"Then your plans just got changed. Tell Sylia that Greg Mallory is here in MegaTokyo."  
  
"But why?"  
  
"Just tell her, all right?"  
  
"Is this guy dangerous or something?"  
  
Raven shook his head. "Not that. He's here for something else. Sylia knows him when they were younger, and I doubt he's changed that much in the last twelve years. Just tell Sylia, and let her take the appropriate course of action." He stood, and said loudly "I'm finished. Will you PLEASE refrain from riding the cycle so hard in the future?"  
  
Priss climbed on the bike, and started it "Sure, Pops," she replied, slipping her helmet on. She revved the engine up slowly, feeling the power in the finally tuned machine under her. Suddenly, she gunned the engine, and put the cycle into gear. She shot forward, leaving a trail of smoke and burnt rubber behind her. She grinned maniacally as the bodyguard stationed near the car was forced to dive for cover as the motorcycle burst out of the garage. She slid the cycle into a hard right turn, and flew off down the street. She didn't look back.  
  
 ************  
**


	6. Chapter 6

*************************************************  
  
 **Ch apter 6  
  
Gulf and Bradley Regional Headquarters  
MegaTokyo, Japan  
December 21, 2035  
10:15am  
  
** Carlton Bradley stared out of the window of the small office he'd appropriated upon his arrival in MegaTokyo. They view was less spectacular then the view from GENOM tower, but Carlton didn't care for views that much. He stared at the massive obelisk that was GENOM Tower.  
  
He was tall, as his father had been, but he hadn't inherited his father's bulk. His face was a series of sharp angles, and his eyes were cold and hard. He had long dirty blond hair that hung in a ponytail that reached halfway down his back. His blue suit was expensive, but somber in tone.  
  
He heard some enter the office. "Bored already, Sister?" he asked without turning.  
  
"Yes," replied Cora Bradley. She looked a lot like her twin brother, being only slightly shorter then him. She also shared the same cold harness in the eyes. "The poor girl isn't much fun when she drugged to the hilt. She can't feel the pain."  
  
"I need her alive and sane. Once we've gotten what we need from her, we can eliminate the drugs, and you can have her screaming to your heart's content."  
  
Cora smiled coldly. "How much longer?"  
  
"A few days, a week at the most."  
  
"I can wait that long."  
  
"I'm sure you can. But I have something else to occupy your attention for a while."  
  
"What?"  
  
Carlton turned and faced his sister. "Greg Mallory is in town," he replied in an even tone.  
  
Cora's eyebrow went up. "Is he? I take it then MALCORP is still trying to recover the girl?"  
  
"It would appear so. Now, the question is, is MALCORP going to hire the Knight Sabers to retrieve the girl, or did he bring in the Black Knights?"  
  
His sister shrugged. "Doesn't matter. We have enough `liberated Boomers' to handle either one, or both."  
  
He sat down in his chair. "But not enough to waste them like GENOM does."  
  
"We could always set a trap."  
  
Carlton's smile matched his sister's in its coldness. "True. I suppose you have an idea?"  
  
"I do, but I need a couple of hours to work out the details. I'll tell you at lunch."  
  
"Lunch it is."  
  
Cora turned and walked over to the door. She turned slowly. "Is there I chance we could capture a Knight Saber? I would enjoy the opportunity to `question' one of them."  
  
"We'll see."  
  
"Thank you, brother." After she left, Carlton rotated his chair to stare out the window, and at GENOM Tower.  
  
"We have some unfinished business, Quincy," he said. "And I always finish my business before I move on."  
  
 ************  
  
AD Police Headquarters  
District 3  
December 21, 2035  
10:39am  
  
** The small plaque next to the door said **COMPUTER SECURITY OFFICE**. The office itself was tucked off in a corner of the twenty-eighth floor, hidden from the rest of the world. It had taken Nene ten minutes to thread her way through the computer banks and occasional desks to find it.  
  
She had spent the time between Daley's conversation and now pulling all the data she could on MALCORP and Janie VanDell out of the computers. The disk containing the data rested in her purse, ready to be passed on to Linna at lunchtime. She'd only skimmed the data, since there was too much to read at the time, but there were some very interesting stuff there. She'd alsotaken the opportunity to crack into Leon's file and make a notation that he was on a week's vacation.  
  
She stood staring at the plaque. _This is it_ , she thought nervously. _My new job. New responsibilities. I hope I'm up to this.  
  
_ She entered the office carefully, and looked around. The room was about the size of her living room, with four gray walls and ceiling. Two cubicles occupied the far wall, taking up two thirds of the office space. The cubicle on the left was unused, empty of everything except a computer console sitting on a bare desk in near darkness.  
  
The other cubicle was occupied, and Nene looked in. She was surprised at the clutter that had accumulated in such a small area. Computer disks were laying around the desk, alongside cups, papers, books, pens, something that looked like a CD player, keys, and other knickknacks. The computer was on, and she saw it was running a program of some sort.  
  
The only occupant was leaning back in a high back chair. His eyes were closed, and he had earphones over his ears. He was of medium height, squat, and average looking. His dark hair, with a few white hairs showing, was a wild mess. He wore glasses, and it looked as if he'd  
forgotten to shave today.  
  
"Good morning Sergeant," he said, without opening his eyes. He slipped off the earphones to hear her, and Nene noted that he was listening to Priss and the Replicants.  
  
"How...er...."  
  
"How did I know you were there?" he asked, his eyes still closed.  
  
"Yes." Nene felt irritated. She hadn't been here ten seconds, and she was already on the defensive.  
  
"Your perfume. A rather expensive brand too." He opened his eyes, and smiled at her. He stuck out a hand. "Alan Tremolini, ADP's ACTING computer security officer. You're my new boss, right?"  
  
She accepted the hand. "Nene Romanova." His handshake was firm, but controlled. "Just for the record, What happen to the previous senior computer security officer?"  
  
Alan shrugged as he released her hand. "GENOM offered him the same job he was doing here, at twice the salary. He had a wife, two kids with a third one on the way, so he grabbed it." He leaned forward, eying Nene carefully. "Inspector Wong told me earlier that someone had accepted the job. He just neglected to tell me who."  
  
"Did he? All Daley told me was that there one other person in this department, and, for some reason, couldn't accept the position as head of department. He also said you were a solid, reliable guy who won't mind me taking over."  
  
Tremolini shrugged. "He got that right. Why don't you have a seat?"  
  
Nene perched herself on the edge of his desk. "Why can't you accept the position as head of department?"  
  
"I'm classified as B-1 limited duty. The head of any ADP department must be classified A-2 or better."  
  
"Oh." She looked at him again. "Why B-1?"  
  
"Medical reason that I rather not talk about." He stared at her startled look. "No, I'm not a burnout case that's on the edge of going off like a rogue Boomer. I'm as sane as anyone else in the ADP - which means I have a couple of screws loose, but not that many."  
  
Nene let that pass. "How long to get me up to speed on the security system?"  
  
"Depends on how well you know the computer system right now."  
  
"I know it fairly well," she replied carefully. She didn't want to let on exactly HOW well she knew the system.  
  
"Well, to tell you the truth, ADP system security is rather poor. And this replacement system is more porous then the old system ever was."  
  
 _Tell me about it_ , thought Nene. _Porous isn't the word for it._ "What have you been able to do to secure the system?"  
  
"Not a hell of a lot. The new software we've got has more bugs in it then a Kansas wheatfield. All I've been able to do is throw up roadblocks across some holes, and monitoring programs on others. This jobs need more then two people to do it well, but try telling that to  
the higher-ups."  
  
"How bad is the Cracker problem?"  
  
"Ah, you do know something about cyberculture after all."  
  
"A bit."  
  
"All right." He turned to the computer, and hit a couple of keys. The program that was running was replaced by a list of some type. "In the last six months, there has been three thousand attempts to breach ADP computers."  
  
"Yoew!" exclaimed Nene. "That bad?"  
  
"I said `attempts'. Over half couldn't get through the first layer of security, as poor as it is."  
  
"And the rest?"  
  
"The second level stopped about three quarters of those who got past the first. Only three hundred and fifty three got far enough in to do any damage, but most of them just did the cyber version of graffiti over several directories."  
  
He tapped the computer. "I've put together a program that managed to isolate the serious attempts and assigns them to a certain Cracker based on several factors."  
  
"I'm impressed." _This doesn't sound good.  
  
_ "I have a list of seventy-four crackers who made it past the two levels, and seem more intent on getting data from our systems then raising hell. I've been able to positively identify thirty-six of them, and have probables on another fifteen. The other twenty-three are the problem."  
  
"You can't identify them?"  
  
"Nope." He pointed to a line on the list. "Most aren't worth the effort to track down, but a few are. Take cracker forty-four as an example. Whoever it is, they're good. I can trace their penetration of the ADP system back at least four years, maybe longer. They've penetrated  
security eight time in the last ten months, secure the data they're looking for, and they gone. No stumbling around, no random destruction, nothing to trace them with."  
  
"What type of data?" asked Nene quietly. _Has this guy been tracking me through the system without my knowledge?  
  
_ "That's the interesting thing. I think this one is works with the Knight Sabers. I fact, I think they are a member of the Knight Sabers."  
  
"What?" Nene looked at him, shocked. "How do you come to that conclusion?"  
  
"Several things, Boss." He typed in a command, and the screen changed. "The data."  
  
"Explain it to me, Alan." _I REALLY need to know.  
  
_ "First, the timing." He pointed to a list. "Six times cracker forty-four has slipped into the system, a major event involving the Knight Sabers has happened within thirty-six hours."  
  
"That's not much to go on." _I have to know how much you've found out about my setup here._ "How many times has the Knight Sabers appeared that cracker forty-four didn't put in an appearance?"  
  
"Seventeen times. But they were all Boomer rampages that didn't need ADP files."  
  
Nene nodded. "What else?"  
  
"The type of data our friend's been collecting. Mostly stuff like after action reports on Boomer rampages, examination reports of destroyed Boomer's memory systems, GENOM's replies to our reports, and Boomer technical reports."  
  
"Maybe someone wants to put their own Boomer together without paying GENOM royalties."  
  
"Maybe, but here is the centerpiece of my belief that cracker forty-four is a Knight Saber." He brought up a new screen. "Remember that nutcase that took over this place over with that group of Boomers a couple of years ago?"  
  
"I remember." _I nearly got killed by one of those Boomers, came close to getting Chief Todo's niece killed, and nearly got blown up, along with the entire building!  
  
_ "I manage to retrieve some video footage for a security camera located in the auxiliary computer control room. It's not in great shape, there's no audio, but it good enough to view."  
  
He hit a key on the keyboard, and the computer screen flickered to life. Nene stared hard as the footage began to run. It wasn't very sharp, but Nene could see herself, in her familiar blue and pink hardsuit, working at the computer console. The angle of the camera made it impossible to see Mackie, so it looked as if she was alone in the room.  
  
As she watched, her mind flashed back to that event. She and Mackie had been in a desperate race to save the ADP building from the Boomer who had attached itself to the main computer system. It had been a close thing, but she'd manage to overload the Boomer's circuits, destroying it before it could destroy the building.  
  
After several more seconds, the screen went blank. Alan leaned back in his chair. "What do you think?" he asked.  
  
Nene shrugged. "Not much to go on," she replied in what she hoped was a neutral tone.  
  
"It shows that this Knight Saber has more then a passing familiarity with our system. The type of familiarity that a very good cracker would have."  
  
"Maybe. Have you told anyone else about this?"  
  
"Who am I going to tell?" Alan's face took on an expression of irritation. "ADP policy is I tell the department head, and they take it upstairs. The fact that this department HASN'T had a head for the last six months isn't covered in the policy manual."  
  
"And the Chief follows the Policy manual?"  
  
"Like it's tattooed to his forehead."  
  
Nene sighed. "All right. You've told me. What else should I know right now?"  
  
They spent most of the next hour reviewing the basic security setup, and Nene realized this job was going to be a major headache. Alan had tried his best to cover the major holes, but they security system needed a major overhaul.  
  
Nene glanced down at her watch and swallowed a gleep of shock. "It's after twelve!"  
  
"Is it? Midday or midnight?"  
  
She looked at him, wondering if he was kidding. Before she could answer, Daley stuck his head in the door. "How's it going, Nene?" he asked.  
  
Nene tried to stammer out a reply. "Er...uh...well...."  
  
"She'd doing fine, Daley," replied Alan, with a yawn. "She's going to be OK once I've taught her the ropes."  
  
"Great. Nene, I found someone who was waiting for you at your old desk. Something about lunch?"  
  
Nene groaned. "Linna. I promised to have lunch with her today."  
  
Daley smiled. "Well, since I was coming down here anyway, I thought I'd save you a trip."  
  
Linna stuck her head around the door, grinning. "Hey there, Sergeant," she said brightly. "Ready to buy lunch for a poor working stiff?"  
  
"Sure. I need to talk to you anyway." Nene turned to Alan. "How long have you been here?"  
  
"What day is it?"  
  
"Go home Alan," said Daley. "I don't want to see you until tomorrow morning. You two have some long hours ahead of you."  
  
Alan shrugged. "Give me ten minutes to set up the monitoring programs, and I'll go crash for a while." He looked at Linna. "Hello, Linna. Still teaching aerobics?"  
  
Linna looked mildly shocked. "Alan?"  
  
"You know him?" asked Nene.  
  
"Er...yes." Linna looked puzzled. "Alan, You never said you were with ADP."  
  
"You never asked." He yawned. "Go have lunch, Boss, and let Linna fill you on what little she know about me." He turned back to the computer, and started typing in commands.  
  
"I think we've been dismissed," said Daley dryly. "Come on, I'll escort you to the lobby."  
  
 ************  
  
Sylia's Apartment  
Friday, December 21, 2035  
11:57am  
  
** Sylia sat in the living room, reading the newspaper quietly. Despite the holiday season, she'd taken the day off. If there was problem in the store below, she could be downstairs in minutes. But today, she thought spending the day with Mackie was more important.  
  
Mackie was asleep in his old room, and probably would be for another couple of hours. The conversation on the way home had been general in nature for the most part, but had change in the tone and content after they dropped off Nene at ADP headquarters. Sylia outlined What had happened at the airport, while Mackie listened with his eyes closed, When Sylia mentioned MALCORP, he opened his eyes.  
  
"Interesting," he'd remarked.  
  
"What's interesting?" she'd asked.  
  
"Do you know who's running MALCORP these days?"  
  
"No, I don't."  
  
"Greg Mallory."  
  
A memory involving a serious looking boy with different colored eyes had flashed across her thoughts. "Doctor Cordila Mallory's son?"  
  
"The same. His father died about a year ago, and he took over the business."  
  
"What else do you know about MALCORP?"  
  
"Not much. At the very least, they've got better PR people working for them then GENOM does. Word is Greg runs a tight ship, and has managed to piss off the other megacorps by not playing by their rules. His rep makes Quincy's look sad in comparison."  
  
"That sounds like Greg. He never did like playing by other people's rules."  
  
The conversation had drifted into other areas after that, but Sylia's mind now roamed back to that conversation. _Could that have been Greg Jeena Malso met at the airport? Why is he here? And why is MALCORP looking for Janie VanDell?  
  
_ The doorbell rang, interrupting Sylia's train of thought. She got up slowly and answered the door. Priss stood there, glaring at her.  
  
"Would you like to come in?" Sylia asked mildly.  
  
"I would." Priss stalked into the apartment, followed by Sylia. While Sylia reclaimed her seat and went back to the newspaper, Priss headed for the kitchen and claimed a beer from the refrigerator. After popping the top, Priss took her beer and plopped down on the sofa. She took a long pull from the can, and glared at Sylia.  
  
"A little early in the day, isn't it?" asked Sylia, not looking up from the paper.  
  
"It's lunch. Where's Mackie?"  
  
"Sleeping. What's wrong?"  
  
"I ran into someone you know at Pop's garage. Pops sent me over to tell you that Greg Mallory's in town."  
  
Sylia looked up. "You saw Greg?"  
  
Priss nodded. "A tall and lean guy, with one eye green blue in color, the other one gray."  
  
"That sounds like him."  
  
"Him and Pops acted like they were a couple of long lost family members."  
  
"Well, Greg's father wasn't around a lot, and Doctor Raven treated Greg like a son."  
  
"Pops seemed edgy for some reason. Told me to tell you and let you take the appropriate course of action, whatever the hell that is."  
  
"I see." Sylia closed her eyes and thought for several minutes. She opened her eyes. "Greg is up to something." She outlined MALCORP interest in Janie VanDell, the meeting of Greg and Jeena Malso at the airport, and the measures the corporation was taking to try to locate her.  
  
"So why would this Mallory be so hot trying to track down a single fourteen-year-old?"  
  
"I don't know, but I've got Nene pulling data on both MALCORP and Janie VanDell from the ADP systems. Once we get an idea What's going on, then we can take action."  
  
"What type of action?" asked Mackie, strolling into the living room, stretching and yawning at the same time. He was wearing a garish green bathrobe over blue PJs. "Hello, Priss," he said when he saw her sitting there.  
  
"Mackie." Priss waved at him. "How was your flight?"  
  
"Long and boring. How's the music biz?"  
  
"About the same." She drained the rest of the beer. "I'd better be going. I've got things to do."  
  
"What are you doing tonight?" asked Sylia.  
  
"I don't know yet." She stood. "Why?"  
  
"I'm having a welcome home dinner for Mackie tonight. You're invited."  
  
Priss shrugged. "Why not? What time?"  
  
"Seven."  
  
"Sounds good. See you then." She waved Sylia off. "Don't bother to get up. I'll let myself out."  
  
Mackie waited until Priss closed the front door behind her before he said, "You didn't tell me about this dinner."  
  
"Until twenty seconds ago, there was no dinner. I thought it might cheer Priss up."  
  
"What's wrong with her?"  
  
"The band tossed her out. I think she's taking it harder then she's letting on."  
  
"What about the others? They might have plans tonight."  
  
"I talked to Linna earlier. She didn't have anything planned. And Nene's not had much chance for a social life lately. I'm sure she'll jump at the chance."  
  
"Assuming there isn't a Boomer rampage tonight."  
  
"Well," replied Sylia, picking up her newspaper again. "Let's hope GENOM gives everyone a night off tonight."  
  
 ************  
**


	7. Chapter 7

*************************************************  
  
 **Ch apter 7  
**  
Dastari's Restaurant  
Tinsel City  
Friday, December 21, 2035  
12:35pm  
  
The view from the table's window was, to put it mildly, spectacular. Housed in one of MegaTokyo's tallest buildings, Dastari's was one of the city's best and most expensive restaurants. Nene was a bit surprised at the choice Linna had made, but with the respectful way the matre'd treated Linna and herself, it was clear that Linna was well known here.  
  
Nene stared out the window, admiring the view, her food temporally forgotten. She'd passed the disk with the data on MALCORP and Janie VanDell over to Linna once they'd gotten into the car, so that was out of the way. After they'd been seated at a booth near a window, Linna and she spent the time waiting for the food talking about their new jobs. Linna had recently secured a position at a respectable brokerage house. While she wasn't `raking in the money' as she had been before, she was earning enough to live well.  
  
"Nene!"  
  
"Er...What?" Nene turned to look at Linna, who was scowling at her.  
  
"Were you listening?"  
  
"Sure," replied Nene. "You were talking about the hunk you have for a boss."  
  
"That was five minutes ago!"  
  
"Oh." She glanced down at her food. "What did you know about Alan?"  
  
"Alan Tremolini?" Linna sipped from a glass of red wine. "He was teaching martial arts a couple of nights at the aerobics studio where I worked about four years ago. We dated a couple of times, nothing serious. He was always the prefect gentleman. We've kept touch over the years, dated a couple of more times, but we've stayed only friends."  
  
"Is he always that laid back?"  
  
"Yes." She chuckled softly. "I use to kid him about checking for a pulse every so often, just to make sure he was still alive." She saw the worried look on Nene's face. "What's wrong?"  
  
Nene sketched out her morning with Alan, including his tracking of Nene's break-ins of the system. Linna listened, then asked, "You couldn't access this stuff directly from you workstation?"  
  
Nene shook her head. "It would have been traced back to me during the first security audit. Of course, I hadn't realized at the time, the security audits weren't being done more then once a year."  
  
There was silence for several minutes while they ate. Finally, Linna asked, "So, how does this new job going to affect your data gathering skills?"  
  
"Easier and harder."  
  
"How's that?"  
  
"Easier because I'll be able to access the entire system under the cover of `security checks'. My security clearance will give me the chance to open some back doors into areas I had to work to get into before." She sighed. "The harder part means I'm going to have to eliminate most of the holes I've been using to slip into the system. Also, I've got to be a lot more careful now, especially with Alan around. He knows the security system better then I do right now."  
  
"Sounds like you've got your work cut out for you."  
  
"You don't know the half of it." She explained her conversation with Daley in the cafeteria. Linna said nothing, but just listened as the redhead told her about Leon quitting, her promotion, and Daley's request for Nene to head up a cracker unit inside ADP.  
  
After Nene finished, Linna shook her head slowly. "You've had a busy morning, haven't you?"  
  
Nene looked at her glumly. "I've still got this afternoon to worry about."  
  
Just then, a low buzz from Linna's phone interrupted the conversation. Linna picked it up and answered it. "Hello?  
  
/Linna,/ said the familiar voice of Sylia. /Your office said you were at lunch./  
  
"Hello Sylia," replied Linna, looking at Nene. "I'm glad you called."  
  
/Is Nene with you?/  
  
"Yes, she's sitting across from me right now. Is something wrong?"  
  
/Nothing's wrong. Did she give you the data disk?/  
  
"Got it in my purse. I can bring it by this afternoon."  
  
/I have a better idea. Are you still free tonight?/  
  
"Tonight? Sure. All I planned to do was stay home and do some reading."  
  
/How about Nene?/  
  
"Hold on."  
  
She looked at Nene. "Sylia wants to know if you've got any plans for tonight."  
  
Nene shook her head, and Linna continued her conversation. "Nene has nothing planned. What's up?"  
  
/I'm having a welcome home dinner for Mackie tonight./  
  
"Really? A dinner? You didn't mention this earlier when I talked to you."  
  
/This is a last minute decision. I talked to Priss, and she's a bit down. Some time with her family will do her some good. Besides, I think we should get together and have a nice long talk about some things./  
  
"I have no problem. Let me ask Nene first."  
  
"Dinner's fine," said Nene, looking more cheerful.  
  
"Nene's coming too."  
  
/Fine. See you at seven. Bring the disk then./  
  
"See you then, Sylia. Bye!"  
  
/Bye./  
  
Linna put her phone down, and said, "Sylia's having a welcome home dinner for Mackie tonight, at seven."  
  
"Great!" Nene was smiling now. "What about the disk?"  
  
"Sylia said to bring it along tonight. She also mentioned that she thought it would be an opportunity for us to discuss some things."  
  
"Good, because I need to talk to her tonight about everything that happened this morning. I need some advice, and I trust her instincts."  
  
"Speaking of instincts," replied Linna. "It's time we got back to work. What are you going to be doing this afternoon?"  
  
"Moving my stuff into the Security office. I want to get started on securing the system first thing in the morning."  
  
Linna's eyes gleamed in delight. "Which means you won't have any alcohol tonight."  
  
Nene smiled back. "Believe me, I want to start my new job with a clear head and a focused mind. Showing up with a hangover is not going to help my relationship with my subordinate."  
  
"Just be careful, OK?"  
  
"Don't worry. I'll dazzle Alan with my skill and charm."  
  
"Well, just remember that Alan hides much behind that laid back attitude of his," said Linna, standing up. "Don't become too enamored with dazzling him with skill and charm. He's not Leon. He won't drool at the flutter of an eyelash. Believe me, Nene, I know him well enough to say be careful."  
  
"I'll take your advice, Linna," replied Nene, looking crestfallen as she stood.  
  
"Good. Once I've settled the bill, I'll drop you back off at ADP Headquarters. Lets go."  
  
 ************  
**  
Manroku's Bar  
Tinsel City  
Friday, December 21, 2035  
1:27pm  
  
Leon glared at the bartender. "How many is that?" he asked, his voice slurred.  
  
"Eight," replied the bartender glumly. He usually liked working the day shift. It was a nice quiet time to make sure everything was ready for the evening crowd. But this guy had stridden in here two hours ago, and started ordering Kurita PPCs - grain alcohol cut with Sake. He downed the first one, then ordered a second, then a third....  
  
Leon stared at his hands, trying to count on his fingers. He held up three unsteady fingers. "Two more. Now."  
  
"Haven't you had enough?"  
  
Leon leaned over the bar and stared into the man's eyes. "I said two more."  
  
"Give him two more," said another voice. Both men looked over to see a tall woman with one arm stride into the bar as if she owned it. "On me."  
  
The bartender sighed and made two more glasses of the drink. He set them down in front of Leon, then took the bills the woman gave him in silence. He went down the other end of the bar, leaving the two of them alone.  
  
"Jeena," said Leon, looking at her unsteadily.  
  
"Hey, rookie," she replied. "I heard you had a discussion with the Chief today."  
  
"He's a jackass."  
  
"Maybe, but I think you made a mistake in quitting the ADP."  
  
"I don't care." Leon looked at the drink in front of him. "I figure two more, and maybe I can forget the screams for a while."  
  
"Is that it?" asked Jeena knowingly. "The nightmares finally getting to you?"  
  
"Yep. Last night did it." He downed the first of the drinks in one go, not noticing the grimace on Jeena's face. He turned to look at the bartender at the far end of the bar. He was still looking in the bartender's direction when Jeena reached over and dropped a small pill into the full glass. It fizzled for a few seconds before it dissolved into the alcohol.  
  
She said softly, "What happened last night, rookie?"  
  
He spilled it out slowly and in pieces; A simple assignment that went to hell because of a new wrinkle in technology. A force shield of some type that was strong enough to deflect bullets turned two minor Boomers into an unstoppable force.  
  
 _No wonder you're pissed, Leon,_ she thought. _I would've punched out that weasel, not just tell him to go to hell. Still, I'm glad I found you. I think the Boss will want to have a talk with you after all._  
  
After ten minutes, he finished, and stared at the drink. "I'm tired of explaining to widows and children that their daddy die because our new chief is too damn scared of offending his masters. We're dying out there, and no one gives a damn anymore."  
  
"Drink up, Leon. I know someone who'd like to meet you."  
  
Leon shook his head. "I'm not going anywhere. I'm just going to sit here until I pass out." He downed the last drink.  
  
Jeena looked at her watch. "I think you'll be out like a light in...oh, fifteen seconds."  
  
Leon looked at her, and snorted a disagreement. "Want to bet on that?"  
  
"A hundred Yen says you'll be under before you can take out a hundred yen bill from your wallet."  
  
"You're on!" Leon reached into his jacket for his wallet. But before he could touch it, his eyes closed, and he slumped forward. Only Jeena's arm saved him from painful contact with the bartop.  
  
Still holding him, Jeena turned her head towards the door. "OK, he's out."  
  
Two burly looking men standing near the door came over and carefully lift Leon off the stool and carried him out of the bar. Jeena waited until they'd left before waving the bartender over. She dropped several hundred-yen bills on the counter. "If anyone asks after our friend here, you didn't see him. OK?" She gave him her best `I REALLY mean it' smile. He nodded slowly in understanding, and collected the bills off the counter.  
  
Jeena turned and walked out of the bar. Her mind was already on her next task. _You owe me Daley. Let's hope you come through on your side of the bargain._  
  



	8. Chapter 8

*************************************************  
  
 **Part 2 - Middle Game  
  
Chapter 8  
  
Gulf And Bradley - Japan Headquarters  
Tinsel City  
Friday, December 21, 2035  
4:15pm  
  
** //Mr. Bradley, Doctor Zin-Choon is here. He wishes to speak to you.//  
  
Carlton Bradley sighed and put down the pen he was using. He pressed the intercom button. "What does he want to speak to me about?"  
  
The voice was female, crisp, and replied with no hesitation. //Project Doorstop.//  
  
Bradley frowned. "Very well, tell him I'll see him."  
  
"Very good sir."  
  
The door opened, and a short thin man wearing a white lab coat entered. He was almost bald, what was left of his hair nothing more than white wisps clinging to his head. A thin droopy mustache, dark brown eyes, and narrow pointed features made him look like a rodent of some type. Bradley didn't like him, but respected his skills.  
  
Zin-Choon bowed. "I am sorry to disturb you Bradley- _sama_ ," he said slowly in precise English. "But I come to ask you to delay the next interrogation session with the girl."  
  
"Why should I?" asked Bradley, allowing his anger to show. "We need only two or three more sessions to retrieve all of the data we need from her."  
  
"But she is weak. I do not think she will survive the next interrogation session."  
  
"That is not my concern. My concern is the design for that shield generator." He stood up and planted both hands on the desk. "I want it, Doctor," He snapped. "And I want it as soon as possible!"  
  
Zin-Choon didn't react to Bradley's anger. "But she has managed to withhold the most important parts of the designs from us," he said in the same tone of voice he had used since he entered the room. "If she dies, the part of the plans we have are useless."  
  
Bradley thought for a moment. He hated the thought of any delay, but Zin-Choon was the expert, and he had to defer to the Doctor's experience in this matter. "How long before she's strong enough to go another session?" he asked, sitting down slowly, his eyes never leaving Zin-Choon's face.  
  
"Twenty-four hours, thirty-six at the most."  
  
"All right, you have thirty hours. I want her ready to go at ten thirty PM on the twenty-second. Are we clear?"  
  
The doctor bowed in response. "That will be sufficient time." He waited several seconds before he continued. "There is one other matter I must discuss with you, involving the girl and you sister."  
  
"What?"  
  
"I must request that you sister stay away from the girl. Her presence is disrupting my efforts."  
  
In what way?"  
  
Interrogation is a science, and should be treated as such. Amateurs should not be allowed anywhere near a subject, especially one as young as the girl."  
  
And you think my sister is an amateur?"  
  
'Yes, Bradley- _sama_. She enjoys interrogating subjects, a major sign of an amateur. There is no place for emotion in such an environment. Interrogation is for retrieval of information, not the satisfying of a personal appetite. It is my belief that your sister is partly to blame for the need to delay the next interrogation session."  
  
"I see." Bradley leaned back in his chair. "And if I refused to order my sister to stay away?"  
  
"Then I will not be held responsible for the death of the girl."  
  
Bradley took a deep breath. "I will tell my sister not to visit the girl for the next thirty hours. After that time, I will not promise anything."  
  
Zin-Choon nodded. "That is all I ask for. I thank you for this time, and apologize for disturbing you over this matter."  
  
"It is good you brought this matter to my attention, and I will heed your words. Good day, Doctor."  
  
Bradley watched the Doctor walk out of his office, before he dialed a number on the desk's vidphone. He waited until he saw his sister's face, and heard her voice. /Yes?/  
  
"Cora, we have to talk...."  
  
 ************  
  
Sylia's Apartment  
Friday, December 21, 2035  
7:14pm  
  
** The dinner was turning out to be a better idea then Sylia thought it would be.  
  
She looked at the faces around her table, drinking in the warmth and good feeling emanating from them. Priss to her left was eating quietly, pausing only to make a remark every so often, but her earlier stiffness had faded. Linna was seated next to Priss was, enjoying the food and another of Mackie's stories about living and working in Germany. Nene was seated on the other side of the table, her food almost forgotten, as she watched and listened to Mackie. Mackie himself was at the far end of the table, spinning out story after story about his time in Europe.  
  
Mackie finished the current story, sipped from a glass of water, the said, "So, what have you guys been doing?"  
  
Linna chuckled. "I think Nene should start. She told me she had an interesting morning today."  
  
"Oh?" replied Sylia, noting Nene was suddenly blushing. "How interesting?"  
  
Nene explained her morning again, starting with Daley's talk in the Cafeteria. Sylia saw Priss's head snap up when Nene told them about Leon resignation, but the singer said nothing.  
  
 _But I can see what you're thinking, Priss,_ Sylia thought, watching Priss out of the corner of her eye while listening to Nene. _He's gotten under your skin, hasn't he? You'll never throw yourself into his arms, but you're trying not to think about him right now.  
  
_ When Nene announced her promotion and new position, there were hearty congratulations and well-dones from the others, including a preoccupied Priss. Nene started to blush, and she paused to eat some. She continued her story, including Daley's request for a Cracker unit inside ADP.  
  
Nene looked at Sylia, looking concerned. "Daley's right about the lack of knowledge about Boomers. I looked at What the ADP has on file this afternoon, and it's limited. I've got twice as much data in my suit's data files."  
  
She stopped, her face a blank for a moment. Then she tightened her jaw in frustration. "Damn!"  
  
"What is it?" asked Sylia calmly.  
  
"Before Daley dropped the bombshell about my promotion, he told me about the incident last night. In the excitement of today's events, it slipped my mind."  
  
"What?" asked Priss, glowering at the redhead.  
  
"Daley mentioned that the CU-5Ts Boomers we tangle with had force shields. That's why the ADP couldn't handle them." She summarized the entire conversation she'd had with Daley, careful not to leave anything out. The others listened in silence, and after she finished, there was silence around the table.  
  
"We saw no signs of any force shields when we took them down," said Linna.  
  
"That's because they were damaged by the time we got there." Nene frowned. "That might explain why their EM signature read slightly off from the CU-5T's baseline reading."  
  
"So someone's finally come up with a usable Boomer force shield," said Priss with more then a hint of sarcasm. "Just what we need to spice up our lives."  
  
"This is serious," said Sylia. "If those Boomers still had operational force shields when we attacked them last night, they could have been more then a handful - they would have been a danger to all of us." She thought for a second. "That might explain MALCORP's sudden interest in MegaTokyo."  
  
"What are you getting at Sylia?" asked Linna.  
  
Sylia outlined her conversation with Fargo, MALCORP's search for Janie VanDell, and Greg Mallory's sudden appearance. "I'll have to look at the data disk Nene put together before I say for certain," she said carefully. "But the sudden appearance of MALCORP is too much of a coincidence for my taste."  
  
Nene was watching Mackie, who was deep in thought. "What is it, Mackie?" she asked him.  
  
"It's funny you mention both the name VanDell and force shields," he said distractedly. "A couple of days before I left Germany, I overheard two of the other students talking about a Doctor VanDell."  
  
Sylia straightened. "Are you sure of the name?" she asked.  
  
Mackie looked at her blankly. "Yes. Doctor Nathan VanDell."  
  
"What were the students talking about?"  
  
"It seems he died in a explosion at his lab in the northern United States about four days ago."  
  
"What does this VanDell have to do with any shield?" demanded Priss.  
  
"He was part of the team that developed the first stable force shield," replied Mackie. "About fifteen or so years ago. I did a paper on the first tests earlier this year."  
  
"Oh?" replied Priss. "That's convenient."  
  
Mackie shrugged. "I've been looking into force fields for a while. I'm trying to come up with a way of upgrading the force shield on Nene's hardsuit, so she could move while it's up."  
  
"You were?" Nene looked surprised.  
  
"Your force shield forces you to stay in one place, making you an easier target. If you can move and have the shield up at the same time, you become a more effective fighter."  
  
Nene looked at Sylia suspiciously. "Did you put him up to it?"  
  
"I did not," replied Sylia coolly. "Enough about force shields. What else did the students say, Mackie?"  
  
"They discussed a rumor that GENOM was behind VanDell's death. The usual stuff."  
  
"Did they mention anything about VanDell having any children?"  
  
"Nope. It wasn't that much of a conversation."  
  
"Do you think Janie VanDell is Doctor VanDell's daughter?" asked Linna.  
  
"I think it's very likely," replied Sylia. "MALCORP is expending a lot of resources for a single girl. I doubt they're doing it out of the goodness of their hearts. It's quite possible that Doctor VanDell continued his work on force shields, and Janie has some of that knowledge."  
  
"So, What are we going to do?"  
  
"I'm going to talk to Fargo, and see if I can get some more information out of him about MALCORP's search. I'm also going to look at that data disk later this evening. The rest of you stay available. If I decide to rescue Janie VanDell, we may have to move quickly."  
  
They all nodded. Sylia saw Nene look at her pleading for help of some sort. _She has something on her mind she wants to talk to me about, but doesn't want to talk about it in front of the others.  
  
_ As if by a signal, Mackie pushed his plate away. "That's it for me tonight. I really have missed your excellent cooking the last year, sis."  
  
"Are we all finished dinner, then?" asked Sylia.  
  
The others murmured they had, and Sylia stood and began to gather plates. "Nene, help me clear the table and prepare some coffee. The rest of you, go into the living room. We can continue our discussions there."  
  
Mackie, Linna, and Priss disappeared into the living room, leaving Nene and Sylia alone. Neither said a word until all the dinnerware was taken into the kitchen. As Sylia started to load the dishwasher, she asked Nene "Now, What do you want to talk to me about?"  
  
Nene took a deep breath. "What I didn't want to tell you in front of the others is there's another officer in the computer security office. In fact, he's my subordinate."  
  
"Oh? What's his name?"  
  
"Alan Tremolini. Linna knows him, even dated him a couple of times, but she doesn't know him well enough to help me."  
  
Sylia's eyebrow went up. "A man Linna doesn't know well? Interesting. What's exactly wrong with Alan?"  
  
"He makes me uncomfortable." Nene described the conversation she'd had with Alan that morning, including his detection of her break-ins into the ADP's computer system.  
  
Sylia finished loading the dishwasher, started it, then moved over to the coffee maker. "Finding someone who is as good as you in computers might have something to do with your discomfort," she said calmly, adding several scoops of coffee to the coffee maker. "Did you review his service record?"  
  
I pulled it this afternoon." Nene gave Sylia a wan smile. "And I didn't even have to hack into the system to get it." The smile faded. "After reading it, I'm not sure what to make of him."  
  
"In what way?"  
  
"Well, you know that ADP usually hires their technical support personnel directly from the colleges and technical schools. I doubt we have six months of street experience in the entire support staff."  
  
"But Alan has street experience?"  
  
"Five years on the street before a medical condition forced him to transfer to technical support."  
  
"What medical condition?"  
  
"I don't know. His record doesn't say. When I asked him about it this morning, he got defensive about it."  
  
"How did he react when you told him you were taking over as department head?"  
  
"He sounded relieved. His medical status won't permit him to take over as permanent department head, and the job is too big for two people, let alone one."  
  
Sylia filled the coffee maker with water and turned it on. "How good is Alan with computers?"  
  
Nene shrugged. "From What I've seen of him so far? Better then most of the ADP computer types. He knows computer security better then I do."  
  
"How does he react to the changes in the ADP the last two years?"  
  
"Like Leon. He holds the current chief in contempt. He knows what's it like to be out there."  
  
"Please get the cups out of the cabinet, Nene." Sylia retrieved a tray from an overhead and placed it on the counter.  
  
Nene placed the cups on the tray. "So, any advice on how to handle him?"  
  
"Have you given any thought to who you're going to have on your Cracker team?"  
  
"Huh?" Nene looked puzzled. "What does that have to do with Alan?"  
  
"Well," replied Sylia, placing a small pitcher of milk onto the tray. "Someone who is well up on computer security would be a great asset to the team."  
  
"Sure. But would he do it? Or would he go to the chief?"  
  
"You said he holds the chief in contempt, and he's an experienced street officer. Don't you think he'd jump at a chance to help his fellow officers?"  
  
Nene nodded slowly, then comprehension dawned on her face. "And if he's part of the team, he's less likely to pay attention to any hacking I do, because I can tell him it's part of the cracker operation."  
  
Sylia nodded. She poured the now brewed coffee into a silver coffee pot. "The first thing you have to know about leadership is using the strengths and weaknesses of the people you lead to your best advantage." She picked up the tray. "I think it's time to rejoin the others, Come along."  
  
 ************  
  
Gulf and Bradley - Japan Headquarters  
Tinsel City  
Friday, December 21, 2035  
8:37pm  
  
** "What are we going to do with MALCORP's hired dogs?" asked Hachio Ozu, the head of Gulf and Bradley's security for Japan. He was a short thin man, with a moon face and a perpetual scowl. He was dressed in a somber suit, and he stalked back and forth in front of Carlton Bradley's desk like a caged tiger.  
  
"We have no indications that MALCORP has any idea where the girl is," replied Cora tersely. She sat on the small couch at one end of the office, and glared at the other two occupants of the office. Carlton knew she was still smarting from the talk he had with her several hours before about the VanDell girl.  
  
"With the amount of money Mallory's throwing around, it's only a matter of time before someone puts two and two together." He stopped pacing, and leaned on Carlton's desk, and stared at his boss. "I've received information that MALCORP's brought in the Black Knights to handle the retrieval."  
  
Carlton leaned back in his chair, and stared at his security chief for several seconds. "What would you recommend?" he asked slowly.  
  
"We should eliminate as many of MALCORP's street operatives as quickly as we can."  
  
Carlton looked over at his sister. "What do you think?"  
  
"I agree." Her glare had soften, but her voice was still hard. "A few dead bodies might cool the ardor of the survivors long enough to finish retrieving the rest of the data from the girl's mind."  
  
Carlton nodded, and looked up at Ozu. "Do it. Choose half a dozen target and eliminate them."  
  
Ozu straightened. "I can use my contacts inside GENOM to arrange the details."  
  
"No." Carlton stood slowly. "Our agents inside GENOM are too valuable to waste on such an effort."  
  
"But if we make it look like GENOM did the eliminations, it'll distract the others."  
  
"Quincy would never use anything directly traceable to GENOM in such an operation."  
  
"Then What do you suggest?"  
  
Carlton turned to look at his sister. "How many modified C-class Boomers are ready for use right now?"  
  
"Five."  
  
"I want four of them ready to go out tonight."  
  
"To do what?" Cora looked suspicious.  
  
Carlton smiled. "I want them to recruit and lead some of the street hoods against Mallory's people. Just the type of thing Quincy would think of."  
  
He turned to look at Ozu. "Make sure they have untraceable weapons to distribute to the ones they recruit."  
  
Ozu nodded. "And after the hoods take out their targets?"  
  
"We'll keep them around for a day or two, just in case we have to eliminate more of Mallory's people. After that, dead hoods can't tell anyone anything, can they?"  
  
The smile on Cora's face was chilling. "I like it. It'll muddied up the waters long enough to finish up our plan."  
  
"In that case, Sir," said Ozu. "I'd better start putting this operation into place. If you'll excuse me." He turned and strode out of the office.  
  
Neither sibling said anything until the door closed behind Ozu. Cora stretched, and stood up slowly. "Have you considered my plan, brother dear?" she asked lazily.  
  
He sat down and leaned back in his chair. "I have. And I think it's a good one, especially in conjunction with the killing of Mallory's people."  
  
"Then, I can go ahead with it?"  
  
"Yes, but be careful. How long will it take you to be ready?"  
  
"Six hours." She walked to the door. "It'll take that long to shape the 33S's features to match Janie's, plus the necessary reprogramming to simulate the girl's personality."  
  
"Very well. Just make sure that nothing can be traced back to us."  
  
"Don't worry, Brother," Cora said, smiling as if she was a child with a new toy. "I'm always careful."  
  
 ************  
  
MALCORP Regional Headquarters  
Tinsel City  
Friday, December 21, 2035  
10:15pm  
  
** Leon opened his eyes slowly, blinked twice, then groaned loudly. He shielded his eyes from the glare of the overhead lights, and struggled to sit up. It took him three tries before he managed to sit up on the couch he'd been sleeping on.  
  
To put it mildly, he felt like hell. His mouth was dry and bitter, and his head felt as if it had been stuffed with burnt cotton. He leaned forward, but instantly regretted do so when a sharp stab of pain shot around his temples. He gripped the sides of his head with his hands in a vain attempt to keep his head from splitting.  
  
"Welcome back to the land of the living, rookie," said a familiar voice from less then a meter away.  
  
"Jeena?" he asked quietly, his tongue rasping like sandpaper inside his mouth.  
  
"It's me." Her voice sounded amused. "You know, I thought you'd outgrown the stupid stunts, but I glad to see you haven't. Sorts of restores my faith in Mankind."  
  
"Do you have any water?" Leon asked, not daring to look up at her. His head hurt too much to move it unnecessarily.  
  
"I can do better then that, Leon," she replied. She tapped the back of his left hand with something. When he turned his hand palm up, she dropped a pill into it. "Take this. It should clear up the worse of the hangover in about ten minutes."  
  
He looked at the small red pill in his hand. "What is it? Poison?"  
  
"Ah, I'm glad to see the youthful naivete has finally given way to cynical realism." She handed him a cup of water. "Down it with this."  
  
He swallowed the pill, chased it with most of the cup's contents, and passed the cup back to Jeena. He flopped back onto the couch, and turned his head slowly to look at his old partner. "Nice to see you again," he said slowly.  
  
She looked much the same as she had when Leon had seen her last. Tall, broad-shouldered, with long dark hair cascading down her back, and more then pleasant features, she looked happier then the last time he'd seen her. The empty sleeve was the result of a rampaging Boomer, then a fusion Boomer that had absorbed the cyber-limb she'd used after the loss of her organic arm.  
  
Her office had a mix of the modern and the unusual. It was twice the size of the ADP chief's office, and more impressive. The floor was covered in a thick gray carpet. Three of the office's walls were paneled in a dark colored wood, while the far wall was nothing but floor to ceiling windows. From this angle, Leon was impressed at the view of the city he could see.  
  
The desk Jeena was leaning against was wide, solid, and looked to made of wood. The chair behind it was large and high-backed, with bulges that promised lumbar support. A head of a Boomer, a BU-55C by the look of it, sat on the edge of the desk, its dull red eyes staring at him. A neat bullet hole in the middle of its forehead gave a clue to how it'd ended on her desk.  
  
The wall behind the desk was covered with pictures highlighting Jeena's career in the army, ADP and MALCORP. Leon thought he recognized himself in a couple of photos, but he wasn't sure. A low, three shelved, bookshelf sat below the photos, filled with books of all sizes and colors. On top of the bookcase, the arm of another Boomer, a C-class, was standing inside a glass case. Someone had bent down the fingers of the Cyberdroid's hand, leaving only the middle finger pointing straight up in an obscene gesture.  
  
"Same here." She was dressed in a worn blue jumpsuit with the empty sleeve pinned up near the shoulder. "How's Boomer busting going these days?"  
  
"Lousy," he replied. "The Boomers get nastier, and we get more paperwork instead of ammo."  
  
She nodded solemnly "That's What I've heard."  
  
"I take it you showing up at the bar wasn't a happy coincidence, was it?"  
  
She smiled at him. "I still have friends inside ADP. They let me know you were not in a happy mood this morning. After that, it was just a matter of checking your favorite bars until we found you."  
  
"Who's we?" Leon asked, sitting up slowly and putting his feet on the floor. "GENOM?"  
  
Jeena managed to look hurt. "The day I work for GENOM is the day the devil has to shovel snow in order to get to his mailbox. No, these days I work for MALCORP."  
  
"And who is MALCORP?"  
  
"North American Megacorp, based in Philadelphia, on the east coast of the United States. They only have a few holdings here, but they friendlier then Quincy's bunch."  
  
"That's like saying a shark is friendlier then a piranha."  
  
"Maybe, but these people has played straight with me for the last five years." Jeena stopped leaning on the desk. "But I'm not here to discuss MALCORP's ethics, pure as they seem to be. I have a job offer for you."  
  
"Work for MALCORP?"  
  
"I can use you Leon. It'll be like the old days."  
  
"Sure, chasing Boomers all over MegaTokyo is my idea of fun."  
  
"Pays better then ADP. I make three times What I did as a ADP officer, plus I still have my medical pension."  
  
Leon stood up slowly. He legs were shaky at first, but they steady after a few seconds. "Perks are better too, right?"  
  
Jeena smiled. "Much better."  
  
Leon shook his head. "Sorry, I'm not interested. I don't trust any Megacorp as far as I can throw them."  
  
"I understand. What are you going to do next?"  
  
"Get drunk again, and stay drunk for a while. Then, in a week or so, I go look and see who's willing to hire an ex-ADP inspector."  
  
"Why not here?" she asked, waving her hand around the room.  
  
Leon's eyes widened. "You're kidding, right?"  
  
"I'm serious." She walked behind her desk and sat down. "Right now, I need someone like you for a special job. One that will pay you half a million Yen, make you feel a lot better, and make my boss ecstatic."  
  
"Who do I have to kill?" he asked sourly.  
  
"That's the best part. Not a soul. This is a missing person case, and you know the streets as well as I do."  
  
"Then why don't you go out looking for this person?"  
  
"I'm in charge of the search." She waved her hand. "I can't go out on the street."  
  
Leon walked over to the windows and stared out into the night. "Who's the missing person? A scientist working on an important project?"  
  
Jeena smile lost some of its sparkle. "A fourteen-year-old by the name of Janie VanDell. She was kidnaped from her home three and half days ago. Her trail has been traced to here."  
  
"Are you sure it's a kidnapping? Maybe she ran away."  
  
"In my experience," Jeena replied carefully. "Runaways don't kill three quarters of a security team, blow a hole ten feet square in a brick wall, and shatter the house's security system. And do all of that within three minutes." She leaned back. "Someone snatched her, someone who's good at this type of job."  
  
"Who are her parents?"  
  
"Her father was Doctor Nathan VanDell. He had his own high tech company located near New York City. Did a lot of freelance work for different companies. Very successful at it, from what I've been able to gather. Her mother's a school teacher."  
  
Leon looked at her. "You referred to Doctor VanDell in the past tense."  
  
He died hours before Janie was kidnaped."  
  
"An accident?"  
  
"There was an explosion at his lab. The explosion wasn't an accident."  
  
"What's MALCORP's interest in all this?"  
  
"MALCORP itself has no interest in Janie VanDell. But Greg Mallory is using MALCORP to find her."  
  
"All right, I'll rephrase the question. What's Greg Mallory's interest in all this?"  
  
"A fair question," replied a new voice from the doorway behind Leon. "And one that deserves an answer."  
  
He turned slowly and saw a tall, lean man with mismatched eyes. The expensive suit he wore was well tailored to his frame. He strode into the room as if he owned it, moving gracefully towards Leon.  
  
He held out a hand "I'm Greg Mallory, President and CEO of MALCORP."  
  
"Leon McNichol." The handshake was firm, but not overpowering. "You were going to tell me What the deal was with Janie VanDell."  
  
Mallory nodded. "Would you care to take a seat?"  
  
"I think I prefer to stand."  
  
"Very well. You don't mind if I sit down, do you?"  
  
"Go ahead."  
  
Mallory sat on the couch and stared at Leon. "I think it's time I lay down all my cards, Mr. McNichol. Jeena, I think you should hear this also. What I'm about to tell you should not be repeated beyond this room. Understood?"  
  
"If it doesn't affect public security, or leads to a crime."  
  
"Fair enough." Mallory leaned back and relaxed. "You had a problem with force shield equipped Boomers last night, am I correct?"  
  
Leon shrugged. "Jeena told you."  
  
"She did. Well, for the moment, imagine every rampaging Boomer with such a shield. In fact, imaging fighting a Boomer with a shield strong enough to shrug off anything short of an orbital particle beam."  
  
Leon stared at him. The suggestions sent a chill down his spine. "You're serious."  
  
"Very. Last night was the beginning." Mallory's voice was calm and direct as he continued. "Doctor VanDell had developed a design for a force shield generator that is smaller, more powerful, and can be mounted on a Boomer or Hardsuit."  
  
"But Doctor VanDell is dead."  
  
"And the plans for the shield generator were destroyed in the explosion, along with Doctor VanDell and most of his assistants. Janie VanDell is the only one who has the necessary information to build such a generator."  
  
"A fourteen-year-old has that knowledge?" Leon looked skeptical.  
  
"She has a photographic memory, and she worked on her father's notes for the design. That's why she was snatched. And that's why I want her back before those bastards tear her mind apart to retrieve the information."  
  
"And What does MALCORP get out of it?"  
  
Mallory smiled. "Short term? Not a damn thing. My one and only concern is rescuing a lost and scared fourteen-year-old from some nasty people. I want her returned to her mother, safe and sound. She's been through enough hell for now, don't you agree?"  
  
"What about long term?"  
  
Mallory's smile faded. "On the business side, MALCORP has a thirty per cent stake in VanDell's company. I don't like people stomping around on my turf, thinking they can get away with such hideous crimes. There are jackals out there that would seize on any weakness they saw, real or otherwise. MALCORP takes care of their own."  
  
"Personally, I've know Janie since she was a baby." His tone became harder, and Leon heard some of his host's suppressed anger seeped into his words. "She's the brightest, most sweet natured teenager I've even know. She wouldn't hurt a fly, Mr. McNichol. She wants to be a doctor when she grows up.Am I making myself clear here?"  
  
Leon nodded. "I hear you." _Either this guy is an incredible actor, or he's telling me the truth. And I think he's telling me the truth._ "And respect your reasons. I'll help."  
  
"Good." Mallory stood up, and glanced over at Jeena. "Pay him what our top freelancers are getting. You can start right now, Mr. McNichol." He extended his hand to Leon again, and Leon took it. "Jeena will give you all the details. Good evening."  
  
He turned and strode out of the office. Leon watched him leave before he turned to Jeena. "Is he always this...."  
  
"Direct? Damn right he is."  
  
"Do you believe him?"  
  
She nodded slowly. "His reputation among the rank and file workers is incredible. He demands loyalty from the people who work under him, but he returns that loyalty tenfold. MALCORP doesn't use people up and spit them out like GENOM does."  
  
"Sounds too good to be true."  
  
"He is." Jeena stood. "I don't know about you, but I'm hungry, and I don't want to brief you on an empty stomach. Care for a late dinner?"  
  
Leon's own stomach indicated it was empty. "Fine by me," he said with a smile. "You buying?"  
  
"I think I can squeeze it out of my budget." Her own smile was lazy. "After which we can go back to my place and I can fill you in on ALL the details."  
  
"I'd better start after dinner, or your boss is going to be wanting details to why I'm not out on the street."  
  
Jeena laughed. "Spoilsport," she said lightly. "But you're right." She linked her arm through his, and led him to the door. "Come on rookie, and tell Auntie Jeena all about your love life."  
  
  



	9. Chapter 9

*************************************************  
  
 **Ch apter 9  
  
Coastal Highway  
Friday, December 21, 2035  
11:02pm  
  
** Sylia drove her bright red Mercedes-Benz with the coolness of a professional driver. The traffic was light for this time of night, and she made good time. She pressed down on the accelerator, and the car leapt forward, taking her closer to her meeting with Fargo.  
  
His call came shortly after ten o'clock. The dinner party was winding down, and so were the guests. Both Linna and Nene had to work tomorrow, which meant they would have to leave soon. Priss glanced at the clock every few minutes, but made no attempt to leave. So, they sat and listen to one of Linna's stories about her new boss.  
  
When the portable phone rang, the conversation stopped. They all looked at the phone sitting next to Sylia. They all knew it was a special line, its number known only to the people in this room, and one other.  
  
Sylia, sitting on the couch, reached behind her and picked up the hand receiver. "Yes?"  
  
/Hello, Sylia./ said the dry toned voice of Fargo.  
  
Sylia stood and walked away from the others. "I was just thinking of you," she said quietly.  
  
/Really? I must be finally getting to you./  
  
"I doubt it. It probably something I had for dinner."  
  
There was silence for a moment, the Fargo said, /I deserved that, but I need to see you, in person. This is important./ She caught some tension in his voice.  
  
"Are you in trouble?"  
  
/No. But the outfit you represent might be. I had a visit from some guests from outside Japan, and they were most insistent that I pass something on to you./  
  
"Where and when?"  
  
/Niko's Pool hall in District 6. Corner of Flower Blossom and Twenty-seventh. Eleven-thirty. When you get here, I'll buy you a Golden Unicorn./  
  
Sylia nodded. He'd given the all clear signal with the last sentence. Sylia hated Golden Unicorn beer, and Fargo knew it. Had he offered to buy her one of favorite drinks, she would have know then it was a setup. It was a long winded way of doing business, but necessary.  
  
"Eleven thirty is fine. See you there."  
  
/I can hardly wait./  
  
Before she put the receiver back, Sylia knew the evening was over for them.  
  
Nene made the first move. She glanced at her watch, and said, "Is that the time already? I'd better get going. I don't want to spend my first day in charge of the Computer Security Department half asleep."  
  
"Who would notice the difference?" asked Priss, standing up. She stretched slowly. "But little Miss Cyberpunk is right. I've got leads on a couple of bands that need a singer, and I'd better follow up on them now."  
  
Linna nodded. "There's an early meeting among the brokers tomorrow. I'd better leave also." She turned to Nene. "Do you need a ride home?"  
  
Before Nene could say anything, Mackie said, "I'll take her home, if that's all right with her."  
  
"S - sure," Nene managed to stammer out. "That's if it all right with Sylia."  
  
"Don't look at me," replied Sylia, with a smile. "Mackie's a big boy now. He doesn't need my permission to do anything."  
  
"Then I'll get my coat." Nene leapt out of her chair and disappeared into the hall closet, while Mackie stood and picked up a set of keys from a desk drawer. By the time Mackie was ready, Nene had secured her coat, and was waiting for him at the door.  
  
"Be back in a hour," he called out to Sylia as they both went out the door. The door closed quietly behind them.  
  
Priss smirked. "I don't think so," she said.  
  
"I'm sure Mackie will be a gentleman," said Sylia, standing.  
  
"He seems to have matured in the last year," said Linna. "He didn't even try looking down my blouse once the entire night."  
  
Priss shrugged on her biker's jacket. "Maybe so, Linna, but if he tries that stunt with the cameras in the changing room again, I'll break his nose."  
  
"I don't think that will be a problem," said Sylia.  
  
Sylia escorted them to the front door. "I have no idea what Fargo wants," she said. "But make sure you have your signal devices handy, just in case we have to move fast."  
  
"Yes, mommy," said Priss over her shoulder. "Do you want us to look both ways when we cross the street too?"  
  
They said their good-byes at the door. After Sylia ushered them out, she walked back into the living room and quickly cleaned up. Thirty minutes later, she was behind the wheel of her Mercedes-Benz, heading towards the location Fargo had given her.  
  
After twenty minutes, the exit she wanted come up and she took it, careful to watch her rear mirror for any signs of a tail. Five minutes later, the pool hall came into sight.  
  
 ************  
  
Niko's Pool Hall  
District 6  
Friday, December 21, 2035  
11:33pm  
  
** Fargo leaned over a pool table, and lined up his shot. With a flick of his wrist, he tapped the dull white cue ball right where he wanted it to go. It struck the seven ball, changed direction, and tapped the eleven ball into the side pocket. With a smile, he remarked the tip of his stick, and looked for his next shot.  
  
There were only half a dozen people in the room this late at night, but Fargo had chosen the table farthest from the front door out of habit. The smoke hung thickly in the dimly lit room, leaving a haze that swirled around the lights that hung over each table. Most of the sounds heard were the clicks of balls striking each other and the murmurs of the players as they stalked around the tables looking for their next shot.  
  
"Not bad," said a cool voice from the other side of the table. Fargo looked up at the familiar voice, and saw Sylia standing there, looking as cool and elegant as always.  
  
"I try."  
  
"What did you want to see me about?"  
  
"I have something for you." He retrieved an envelope from his inside coat pocket and handed it to her. "I was given this to give to my Knight Saber contact."  
  
She looked at it. "Any idea What it is?"  
  
"I was told in no uncertain terms that It was none of my business."  
  
"Who gave it to you?"  
  
"That's the interesting part." He leaned over the table and made another shot. "Two gentlemen wearing hardsuits found me and handed it to me, with the clear instruction that it was to be turned over to my Knight Saber contact, and no one else."  
  
Sylia allowed her surprise to show briefly before she ruthlessly suppressed the feeling. "Describe the hardsuits."  
  
"I can do better then describe them," replied Fargo as he lined up another shot. "I can tell you who they are."  
  
"All right. I'm listening."  
  
"Care for a game?" He waved to the pool table. "It would look less suspicious if we played while we talked."  
  
"Very well." Sylia removed the long heavy coat she wore, revealing a subdued business suit. She draped the coat over a nearby chair, and removed a cue stick from a rack on the wall. She examined the stick carefully, then nodded to Fargo.  
  
Fargo reracked the balls, and put the cue ball down on the spot marked for it. He stepped back, and waved to Sylia. "Ladies first."  
  
She stepped up behind the cue ball, and lined up her shot. With a smooth motion, she struck the white ball. The neat triangle of colored balls shattered into its individual pieces as the white ball crashed into it. Fargo's eyes widen as three of the balls disappeared into the table's pockets.  
  
"I take it you don't need any tips in shooting pool," he said in a resigned tone.  
  
"You take it right," she replied, her eyes scanning the table. "Who are they?"  
  
Fargo leaned on his stick and watched Sylia. "They call themselves the Black Knights. They operate mostly in North America, and have been around for the last three years or so. My sources say they're very good, and their hardsuits are top of the line."  
  
"How many in the team?"  
  
"Hard to say. Anywhere between six to twelve, maybe more."  
  
Sylia found her shot and sank the fourteen ball in a corner pocket. "That's not much help," she said, not looking up.  
  
Fargo shrugged. "They're just as camera shy as the Knight Sabers are, and less forthcoming."  
  
"What type of jobs do they handle?"  
  
"Boomer rampages, and some mercenary work. But they're real choosy about who they work for."  
  
"Do they do any work for GENOM?"  
  
"That's a definite no. Not from a lack of trying on GENOM's part, mind you. But the Knights refuse to have anything to do with GENOM, or most of the other Megacorps. They have done jobs for Green Food, MALCORP, Barrow-Parks-Hollister, and USSD in the past."  
  
Sylia looked up at him. "MALCORP?"  
  
Fargo nodded. "Yea, MALCORP. There's a rumor that they bungled a mission in MegaNew York a couple of days back. The rumor also said that the mission involved MALCORP and Janie."  
  
Sylia found and moved to her next shot. "Speaking of which, What's the latest on MALCORP's search for Janie VanDell?"  
  
"They still searching. They've managed to narrow the field of who could be behind the snatch somewhat, but there's still major players left on the list."  
  
"Who are the top five?"  
  
"GENOM or a GENOM-related company have three of the slots, with Yoshri Electronics and Kingside Miltec running a distant second."  
  
"I'm not convinced it's GENOM, or the others you named." Sylia's next shot removed the three ball, and set up her next shot. "Who are the wild cards?"  
  
Fargo paused in thought. He leaned on his stick and stared at the table. After several seconds, he said "Only one springs to mind - Gulf and Bradley Japan."  
  
Sylia looked up. "Oh?"  
  
Fargo nodded. "About three months ago, the G and B Japan division got a new head man. Name of Carlton Bradley."  
  
"Related to the late chairman of the board, Carson Bradley? The one killed in that terrorist attack in Houston a couple of years back?"  
  
"His son. Word is that he's a cold blooded son of a bitch. The current CEO of Gulf and Bradley, his uncle, wanted him as far as possible from the center of power as possible. So, he dumped him here, and hoped him and Quincy would tangle."  
  
Sylia sank the five, seven, and ten balls in quick secession. "I thought GENOM and Gulf and Bradley were allies."  
  
"Not after the death of Carson Bradley. Janson Bradley dislikes his nephew, but he hates GENOM more. After that superboomer project, Janson cut all ties to GENOM."  
  
"I'm surprised Janson hasn't met with an accident yet."  
  
"Only because Carlton and his sister Cora would inherit the corporation if Janson dies. Janson hates GENOM, but he's smart enough not to oppose them, if he can avoid it. Carlton doesn't seem to have that sense of survival, and his sister is worse. The last thing Quincy wants is warfare between GENOM and Gulf and Bradley, but if those two get control, warfare is  
what he'll get. Even now, there's a shadow war going on between them here in the city. Nothing serious yet, but I don't know how long it'll stay that way."  
  
Sylia missed the four ball, and stepped back. "Could Carlton have arrange the kidnapping of Janie?"  
  
"Possible," replied Fargo, moving down the table to examine a shot. "Though his sister is more likely to be the brains behind something like that. She's twisted enough."  
  
Fargo's shot bounced slightly off target, and he stepped back again. Sylia sank three more balls in rapid secession. "Has MALCORP looked at Gulf and Bradley Japan yet?"  
  
"Not yet. They're still concentrating on the top five."  
  
In a rapid flurry of shots, Sylia ran the rest of the table. As the last ball sank into the pocket, she replaced the stick in the rack and picked up her coat. "Thanks for the game."  
  
He looked at the empty table and smiled at her. "You're welcome. Just be careful out there, OK?"  
  
"I always am. Call me if anything else turns up."  
  
 ************  
  
Outside Niko's Pool Hall  
District 6  
Friday, December 21, 2035  
11:58pm  
  
** The air was cool compared to the Pool hall's, but it was cleaner and fresher. Sylia turned up the collar of her coat, and began the short walk to her car. This was not a nice area of the city, and she didn't care to hang around any longer then she had to.  
  
The light in the area was indifferent at best. Most of the lampposts were without power, lightbulbs, or the inside wiring. There were very few cars, older models for the most part, parked along the street. The street was deserted, and the only sounds beside her footfalls were distant and without definition. But something gnawed at her, and she stopped, and surveyed the area around her. Something was wrong. She could feel it. But What?  
  
She reached into her coat for the large semiautomatic pistol she had just started carrying, when she heard the sounds of shots, muffled by the buildings around her. A long, high pitched, ripping sound of at least two machine guns, punctuated with the thundering booms of a heavy caliber pistol. They were coming from the pool hall, and the glass in the Niko's front  
door shattered as a wild shot passed through it.  
  
 _Fargo! He's in trouble!_ She spun, the pistol out and ready to fire once a target presented itself. When none did, she started back towards the pool hall at an uneasy jog.  
  
She'd covered half the distance to the damaged door when an amplified electronic voice shouted "SYL! TWO HOSTILES AT SEVEN O'CLOCK, ADVANCING ON YOUR POSITION!"  
  
Without thought, she turned and started tracking the closer of the two figures running towards her. They had appeared from an alley half a block down the street. In the dim light, all Sylia could make out was they both male, wore the worn clothing of street people, and carried assault rifles.  
  
 _The N-Police on some type of raid?_ she thought. _Where are the sirens, and the uniformed officers?  
  
_ "AD Police!" she yelled at them. "Identify yourself!"  
  
The nearer figure stopped fifty meters away, snapped the assault rifle he carried to his shoulder and opened fire. The muzzle vomited flame, and a high pitched ripping sound started.  
  
 _Damn! That answers my question!_ Sylia dropped to one knee and fired twice, the flat crack of her pistol startling in the once silent night. Her target folded over and collapsed, the rifle falling out of his hand and clattering on the street. Without pause, Sylia started tracking the other target. Before she could fire, the figure threw himself into a darken doorway thirty meters down the street from her.  
  
Sylia scramble towards the nearest cover, a decrepit looking van, just as the other figure opened fire. She felt the slugs slam into the other side of the van, and heard the windows shatter under the storm of lead. When the shooting paused, she leaned around the end of the van and snapped off three shots in the direction of the doorway. The reply was prompt and the van took several dozen more rounds. Sylia shielded she head from the rain of shattered glass fell on her. _I can't stay here too much longer_ , she thought quickly. _I don't have enough ammo for a long fight, and the N-Police will be here soon. I wish -  
  
_ "STAND BY FOR INCOMING!"  
  
She was startled by the voice that had warned her seconds before. She had just enough time to realize that her benefactor was now joining the fight before she hear the sound of a missile screaming down from above her. The doorway across the street exploded in a mass of white flames, shattering windows and rattling walls. The van trembled under the shock wave, and Sylia was knocked to the ground.  
  
Gritting her teeth in determination, she got to her feet, her pistol still tightly gripped in her hand. Her head hurt, and she felt sick to her stomach. She took a deep breath, and started to cough as she took in a lungfull of dust. She leaned against the van until the spasm stopped. Her eyes were watering, and she fought the temptation to black out.  
  
"Sylia!"  
  
She looked up and saw Fargo charge out of the pool hall, a semi-automatic pistol in one fist, a machine pistol in the other. He saw her and jogged over to her, his eyes roaming the surrounding area with the practice of someone well versed in urban combat.  
  
"Are you all right?" he asked her, and Sylia noted real concern in his voice.  
  
"I'll live," she replied in a rasping voice. "What happened in there?"  
  
"After you walked out, two of the other pool players pulled out machine pistols and tried to kill me." There was no bravado in his voice, just a simple tone of explanation. "They came close too." He looked around. "They tried to kill you too?"  
  
Sylia nodded. "We better get out of here before the police show up."  
  
"You're right," he said, putting his own pistol away. He wiped his fingerprints off the machine pistol before he dropped it onto the sidewalk. "Can you drive?"  
  
"No, you drive Fargo," said an electronic voice from above them.  
  
Fargo had his pistol back in his hand with amazing swiftness, and pointed it at a shadow looking down at them from the roof of the pool hall. "Who the Hell are you?" He shouted.  
  
The shadow stepped off the roof into the air. It fell until a set of thrusters flared to life, slowing the decent. It landed with ease several meters from the front door of the pool hall.  
  
Both Sylia and Fargo stared at the hardsuited figure striding towards them. For a moment, Sylia thought it was a Knight Saber hardsuit, but after a closer look, she saw it was more angular then the suits she designed. It was burnished Black in color, with dark gold highlights glinting in the flames from across the street. The helmet was fashioned to resemble a medieval Knight's helmet. There was a small insignia of a Black knight's head on a gold shield on the hardsuit's right breast.  
  
"You can call me Knight One, Fargo," said the person inside the hardsuit. "And you can put that gun away. We are on the same side here."  
  
"Are we?" replied Sylia, feeling stronger. "That missile you fired nearly killed me."  
  
"I had limited choices. That one wasn't human, but a modified C-class Boomer," Knight One replied carefully. "I couldn't hit it from my position with my other weapons and be sure I could eliminate it before it move in to finish you off."  
  
"So, why are you here?" asked Fargo. "Just passing through?"  
  
"I wanted to make sure that the note my people gave you made it to the right people." He reached out and plucked something off Fargo's coat lapel. Sylia's eyes narrowed as she saw something small in Knight One's metal fingers.  
  
"A transmitter!" snarled Fargo. He leveled his pistol at Knight One's helmet. "Why don't I shoot you now," he growled. "And leave your body here with the others?"  
  
"For one thing, that pistol won't penetrate this armor," replied Knight One in a cool voice that, despite the electronic filtering, Sylia found familiar somehow. "Also, the N-police will be here in a minute and half, and you don't have the time to waste. I'm monitoring the police traffic right now. Drive yourself and your contact out of the area now, or spend the rest of the night trying to explain to the police what happened here. Your choice."  
  
"He's right, Fargo," said Sylia slowly, putting her pistol away. "We don't have time to discuss anything right now." _Including how you knew a nickname I haven't used in years_ , she added to herself.  
  
Fargo hesitated for a second, then nodded, and put his gun away. "This isn't over, Knight One," he said with a growl.  
  
"Make an appointment with Mr. Mallory tomorrow," replied the hardsuited figure. "And you can complain directly to him. I'm here under his orders, not yours."  
  
"Let's go," said Sylia, grabbing Fargo by the arm and pulling him towards her car. By the time they reached the Mercedes-Benz, the sounds of sirens could be heard. Sylia tossed Fargo the keys and they climbed in.  
  
Knight One watched them drive off before he activated his thrusters and shot into the air. He landed on the roof of the opposite direction that Sylia and Fargo had taken. Two buildings later, he stopped and watched the lights of the oncoming police vehicles. _Let's see if I can draw off some of the police response from the area and give Sylia a chance to get clear.  
  
_ When the first of the police helicopters swept into the area, he didn't try to hide from them. He stood in the open and allowed himself to be seen. As soon as the helicopters swung round, he took off running, ignoring the amplified orders to halt and surrender.  
  
 _You and I are going to have a long talk, Sylia._ He thought. _Assuming I don't get killed or captured by the police in the next twenty minutes.  
  
_ ************  
  
  
  
**  



	10. Chapter 10

*************************************************  
  
 **Ch apter 10  
**  
  
Coastal Highway  
District 6  
Saturday, December 22, 2035  
12:14am  
  
They passed a dozen police cars speeding in the opposite direction, sirens screaming, and lights flashing. Fargo kept the Mercedes-Benz just below the speed limit, not wanting to attract any attention. Sylia looked out her car window, the chilling blast of cold air helping to clear the last of the shock from her mind.  
  
Finally, Fargo said, "Are you all right now?"  
  
"Better then I was. Any signs of pursuit?"  
  
Fargo looked in the rear view mirror. "No," he said after several seconds. "Looks like we got clear."  
  
"Good." Sylia thought for a moment. "Any idea what that was about back there?"  
  
He shrugged. "Could be a number of things, but if it's anything else but the Janie VanDell matter, I'll give up drinking."  
  
"Any idea who the two that tried to kill you were?"  
  
"Nope. They didn't carry ID, and they didn't bother introducing themselves before the opened fire." He hesitated, looking for the right words. "What about the one you shot?"  
  
"You mean the one I killed?"  
  
"Are you sure you killed him?"  
  
"I'm sure." She looked out the window. "But I didn't get the chance to check the body."  
  
"They weren't professionals. If they had been. . . ."  
  
"We would be dead. I think you're right. Someone is worried MALCORP's getting close to the truth about who has Janie."  
  
"Looks like it." Fargo looked grim. "And I don't think I was the only target tonight."  
  
Sylia nodded. "They must have followed one of us to the pool hall."  
  
"Most likely me," said Fargo grimly. "I'm the one with the visibility here. They probably figured you were my MALCORP contact, and decided to take both of us out now."  
  
Sylia said nothing, but continued to stare out the window. The image of the hitman in the street doubling over and collapsing to the ground ran over and over in her mind. _Was there something else I could have done? Maybe if I'd run. . . ._  
  
"Are you all right?" There was genuine concern in Fargo's voice.  
  
She turned to stare at him. "The attacker I shot. I was just thinking about him."  
  
Fargo nodded. "Have you ever killed someone before tonight?"  
  
Sylia thought of Brian Mason, the look of surprise on his face when he realized he was dying. She closed her eyes. "Yes. It took me a long time to get over the nightmares. But I don't want to talk about it."  
  
"I understand." Fargo was silent for a minute. "Just tell me this. The person you killed before tonight - did they deserved their fate?"  
  
"Yes," she whispered. "He deserved his fate. He was trying to kill me at the time."  
  
"And the one you shot tonight. Did he try to kill you before you fired at him?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"I see." Fargo was silent for several minutes. "Do you still feel like you should have done something else, like run away?"  
  
She flinched, and her expression was startled by Fargo's question. "How did you know what I was thinking?"  
  
"Because at one time, I thought the same thing." He glanced at her, making sure he had her attention. "I wasn't always what you see here, Sylia. Like you, I have secrets, and I've done things I'm not proud of."  
  
"We all have."  
  
"All I can say is, as long as you feel something, you're human. When you stop feeling, then you become nothing more then an organic Boomer."  
  
Sylia nodded. "It doesn't lessen the feelings."  
  
"Well, look at it this way - if they had killed us, they wouldn't have any thoughts of remorse. We did MegaTokyo a favor when we eliminated them from the gene pool."  
  
"I don't want to talk about it anymore. Who was our hardsuited ally? That was one of the Black Knights?"  
  
"Not only one of the Black Knight, but the leader himself. Which means MALCORP is not taking any chances with the Knight Sabers. They've brought in their own team to do the retrieval work."  
  
The conversation died after that. Both were involved with their own thoughts. Fargo took the next exit, and after ten minutes, pulled into a parking garage. He found an empty parking space and parked the car.  
  
He turned to look at her. "Feel well enough to drive yourself?"  
  
She nodded. "What are you going to do?"  
  
He opened the door. "Do What I do best, hide in the shadows. I'll contact you if I come across anything, but I think it's best for both of us to lay low for the time being."  
  
"I can't do that."  
  
He nodded. "In that case, watch your back. There's no telling who out gunning for us."  
  
She nodded. "Good luck, Fargo."  
  
He smiled at her, that smug smile he used whenever he started his attempts at seducing her. "How about a kiss for luck?"  
  
"No chance."  
  
He sighed expressively. "Story of my life. Stay safe, Sylia." With that, he got out of the car and walked away. By the time Sylia got out of her car, he had disappeared into the shadows.  
  
 ************  
**  
Coastal Highway  
District 4  
Saturday, December 22, 2035  
12:29am  
  
Priss twisted the accelerator, and her bike increased speed. She leaned forward to decrease drag, and smiled. Her speed was well over a hundred and fifty kilometers per hour now, and slowly increasing. The traffic was nonexistent at this time of night, so Priss had no worries about having to weave through knots of slower cars and trucks.  
  
After several minutes, she eased off the throttle. Even the thrill of high speed seemed to have lost most of its adrenaline rush. She saw an exit leading to an unfinished overpass, and took it. Close to the edge, she stopped the bike and cut the ignition. She slowly slipped the helmet off head and stared out into the lights of the city.  
  
 _Damn it, Leon!_ she thought. _Where the hell are you?_  
  
She wasn't certain What surprised her more - the fact Leon had quit the ADP, or the fact she was out looking for him. She shook her head. _He can't be getting to me, can he?_  
  
She had checked out several of his usual hangouts, with no results. No one had seen Leon in over twelve hours. She even went by his apartment, but after picking the lock, she found no signs that he'd been there since yesterday.  
  
After several minutes, she put her helmet back on, and restarted her bike. There were several other places she hadn't checked yet, and her temper wasn't getting any better. She slowly turned the bike around, and started back down the ramp.  
  
 _Don't get yourself killed, Leon_ , she thought, as she turned back onto the highway and accelerated. _I want to do that myself._  
  
 ************  
**  
Coastal Highway  
District 6  
Saturday, December 22, 2035  
12:34am  
  
After Fargo had faded into the darkness of the parking garage, Sylia got behind the wheel and started the engine. In a matter of minutes, she was back on the highway. Once she had settled into a comfortable speed, she reached down and dialed a number on her portable phone.  
  
The phone rang several times before someone answered it. /Hello?/  
  
"Nene?" Sylia wasn't certain of the voice on the other end of the line.  
  
/Sylia? What's wrong?/  
  
Sylia nodded to herself. It was Nene, but she sounded tense for some reason. "I ran into a problem tonight after I met with Fargo."  
  
/Are you all right?/  
  
"I'm fine. And no, the problem wasn't Fargo."  
  
/Then What did happen?/  
  
"I'll fill you in later. I'm going to need data on the local operations of Gulf and Bradley, and anything you can scrape up on a North American mercenary outfit called the Black Knights."  
  
/How soon do you want this data?/  
  
"As soon as possible, I'm afraid."  
  
There was silence on the line for several seconds, then Nene said, /I can start the process going right now, but I have no idea how long it'll take./  
  
"That's all I ask." A sudden suspicion formed in her mind. "When did Mackie drop you off?"  
  
/Mackie? Er...well...um...about an hour ago. . . I think. Hold on./ Sylia could hear the muffled sounds of Nene talking to someone, and that someone answering back. She smiled. Priss was right. _I hope you know what you're doing, little brother_. After several more seconds, Nene spoke into the receiver. /He left. . .er. . .about an hour ago. He. . .said something. . .about wanting to see the city again before he went home./  
  
"I see. If you see him before I do, tell him I'm trusting his judgment tonight."  
  
/His judgement?/ She sounded surprised. /Er . ..yes, I will...if I see him, that is . ../  
  
"Good night, Nene."  
  
/Good night, Sylia./  
  
Sylia sighed as she put the receiver away. _Just don't do anything you two will regret in the morning._  
  
 ************  
**  
Gulf and Bradley - Japan Headquarters  
MegaTokyo, Japan  
Saturday, December 22, 2035  
12:37am  
  
The phone rang, jolting Carlton Bradley out of a sound sleep. He took his feet off the desk, leaned forward, and glared at the phone for two more rings. He reached out and answered it, making sure the video feed from his side was cut off. "Yes?" he said curtly. He didn't want anyone to know he'd been sleeping instead of working - it would send the wrong message to his workers.  
  
/This is Ozu. First phase of Operation Lumberjack has been completed with a seventy-five per cent success rate./ 'Lumberjack' was the codename for the elimination of Mallory's street agents. Carlton hated the name, but had said nothing when Ozu had named it.  
  
"What happen to the operation that wasn't successful?"  
  
/Team 1 was eliminated. It looks as if they ran into trouble with their target. Apparently he was meeting with a MALCORP contact, and the Boomer decided to take both targets out after they separated./  
  
"Did they manage to eliminate either target?"  
  
/No, Sir. Two of the team were eliminated by the target, while a third was liquidated by the target's contact./  
  
"What about the Boomer?"  
  
Ozu paused. /We think either a member of the Black Knights or the Knight Sabers was in the area, and removed the Boomer./  
  
Bradley's jaw tightened. "Who was the target that escaped?"  
  
/A man called Fargo. He's a freelance underworld contact. He might do some work for the Knight Sabers, but we're not certain. Do you wish to activate the fifth C-series Boomer, and send it after him?/  
  
"No. If he's as good as we think he is, he'll drop out of sight, and we don't have the time or the resources to dig him out. Order the other three teams to eliminate the second group of targets. We will activate the fifth Boomer, but I want it to fill in for Team 1."  
  
/Understood sir. What about the Black Knights and the Knight Sabers?/  
  
Bradley glanced at the clock, and he was surprised at the time. "Leave the Black Knights and Knight Sabers to my sister. Her operation is about to commence."  
  
/Yes Sir. Anything else?/  
  
"Not for now. I will be joining you in the command center in fifteen minutes. I want to watch my sister's plan in action for myself."  
  
/Yes sir. Fifteen minutes./  
  
Carlton replaced the receiver and stood up. _Let's see how your plan works, dear sister_.  
  
  



	11. Chapter 11

*************************************************  
 **Chapter 11  
**  
  
Warehouse #41526584  
Yokohama District  
Saturday, December 22, 2035  
1:14am  
  
"Where the hell have you been?" shouted Marcus Jackson when Knight One dropped easily from the skylight to the floor of the warehouse.  
  
Despite the lateness of the hour, the warehouse was ablaze with lights. Technicians were supervising a couple of Knights into their hardsuits. Several other Knights were already suited up, and ready for action. There was a somewhat controlled chaos in effect, and Greg was pleased to see that everything was running well.  
  
He raised the visor of his Knight One hardsuit, and gave Marcus a hard stare. "We've got trouble."  
  
"Tell me about it!" Marcus was furious. He was still in street clothes, not wanting to waste the time to suit up unless he had to. "We lost three of our street operatives in the last two hours. Hit teams nailed them, plus anyone standing too close to them at the time."  
  
"I thought as much."  
  
"What the hell is that suppose to mean?"  
  
"I help take out the fourth hit team over in District Six less then an hour ago."  
  
"Did they get our man?"  
  
Greg removed the helmet. "No. Fargo got two of them, his contact with the Knight Sabers got one, and I took out the Boomer leader."  
  
"The team leader was a Boomer?"  
  
Greg nodded. "And I'll bet that the other hit teams are also led by Boomers."  
  
"No bet. What do we do now?"  
  
"Call the rest of our operatives, and tell them to lay low for twelve hours. If they need someplace to hide, tell them to come to MALCORP headquarters."  
  
"Aren't we risking our own people by shielding them?"  
  
"They are our own people, even if they are freelancers. I don't leave my people to twist in the wind, you know that."  
  
"I know that. But I'm convinced that the bad guys want us to do something like that. Aren't we putting all our eggs into one basket?"  
  
"I'll be surprised if any of them accept the offer. These are people of the street, Marcus. They see what's happening, and I'll bet that each of them has a bolthole in case of trouble." Greg strode over to a table sitting near the office. "Anything new on Janie?"  
  
"No. And having to pull in our people isn't going to help."  
  
"What's the status on the Rattlesnakes?"  
  
"They're enroute. ETA thirty minutes. Figure another thirty to get them in here, armed and ready for combat."  
  
Greg nodded. "Where's Leon and Jeena?"  
  
"Jeena's at MALCORP HQ. Leon's running down a possible lead."  
  
"Call them in also. I want them here before two-thirty."  
  
"Here? Is that smart?"  
  
"Both Leon and Jeena know this city, and both know how to fight Boomers. And I'm sure Leon knows more about the Knight Sabers then he's let on."  
  
Marcus's face showed doubt. "We're clutching at straws here, aren't we?"  
  
"We're running out of time. Janie becomes a liability once she's told them everything. The fact they're coming after our people means that they don't have the complete plans for the shield yet." He looked at the map tacked to the top of the table. "When you contact our people, I want everything they collected on this job - facts, rumors, gossip, hearsay, or anything else. They might be a lead in there somewhere."  
  
"A weak hope, Greg."  
  
"I know," replied Greg, not looking up from the map. "But it's the only one we have right now."  
  
 ************  
**  
Ri-san Bar  
District 6  
Saturday, December 22, 2035  
1:24am  
  
The first thing that struck Leon was the smell of stale beer, followed by the stench of unwashed bodies. He fought the natural instinct to wrinkle his nose in disgust, and scanned the room for Skeeter.  
  
He spotted his man at a back table, sitting alone and watching the people around him with more then detached interest. The bar was filled with people, mostly locals who eaked out a living doing jobs that were too cheap for Boomers to do. A few had the hard look of gang members, while of couple of others looked as if they were Yakuza. The few looks he got were cold and very unfriendly.  
  
He ignored the stares, and started through the throng towards Skeeter. Besides a few sharp elbows to the ribs and arms, he made it through in one piece. Once clear of the mass, he found himself standing a meter away from Skeeter's table.  
  
Skeeter Karns was a giant, well over two meters tall, and heavily muscled. The gray T-shirt and bluejeans made him look like a bouncer, rather then the head of the local gangs. His hair was cut close to the skull, his skin the color of old hickory, while his features were thick and brooding, making him look like an imbecile. But his dark green eyes showed more then simple intelligence.  
  
"Leon," he said quietly, despite the noise.  
  
Leon sat down across from him. "How's it going?"  
  
The giant shrugged. "About as well as can be expected these days."  
  
"I need some information."  
  
"I don't give out information on my people, Inspector."  
  
Leon shook his head. "Not your people. I need information on who kidnapped a fourteen-year-old from her home in the United States and brought her here."  
  
A thick eyebrow went up. "Since when did ADP get involved in the Janie VanDell case?"  
  
"They're not. I'm doing some freelance work for MALCORP."  
  
"Be careful Leon. MALCORP has lost several of their street people in the last several hours, and I don't mean simple misplacement. Someone's headhunting, and MALCORP's people are the heads they're hunting."  
  
Leon nodded. "Thanks for the warning, Skeeter. What's the word on the street?"  
  
The giant closed his eyes. "Whoever it is, it's not GENOM. Word is Quincy's ordered an internal investigation of their own people to make sure it's not a rouge operation. There's a lot of coded traffic between GENOM Tower and the other GENOM locations, asking for reports on lost or destroyed Boomers for the last several years. One of Quincy's new Special Assistants, a gentleman by the name of Faust, is handling the case."  
  
"What about the other Megacorps?"  
  
"Nothing obvious. What's the interest in a fourteen-year-old?"  
  
Leon sighed. "Promise this goes no further?"  
  
Skeeter nodded. "MALCORP's people on the street had no idea why Janie was taken."  
  
Leon filled Skeeter in quickly, starting with the girl's kidnapping. The giant nodded slowly, listening quietly to the report. When Leon had finished, Skeeter made a fist and stared at the table, deciding if it was worth the effort to smash. After several seconds, the huge fist relaxed into an open hand.  
  
"You're telling me the truth?" he asked slowly. "That child was kidnapped and brought here to retrieve plans for a lousy piece of equipment?"  
  
"I am." Leon held up a hand. "Look, I know how you feel about kids. Everyone who lives down here knows who was behind that new wing for the orphanage. Whoever took her doesn't share you concern for kids."  
  
Skeeter nodded, his face looking like a thundercloud. "I don't like people like that."  
  
"I know. I also know that whoever took her is going to need a certain type of specialist to retrieve that data. That's why I came to you. I need to know if anyone has recently come into town, and who hired them."  
  
"The best interrogation specialist in the city right now is a Doctor Yin Zin-Choon," Skeeter said in a cold hard voice. "He came into the city late last week. I heard that the Japan branch of Gulf and Bradley hired him."  
  
"Who's the current G and B Japan head?"  
  
"Carlton Bradley. He's ruthless enough to behind something like this. His sister Cora is a borderline psychotic. Together, they're serious trouble." He was silent for a minute, then leaned forward. He said in a low voice, "Word is they've been gearing up for a shadow war against Quincy and GENOM without the G and B Board of Directors' blessing. If they wanted an ace in the hole, a force of Boomers with a force shield is one heck of an Ace."  
  
"Makes sense. Too much damn sense." Leon stood. "Thanks Skeeter, I owe you one."  
  
Skeeter glared at him. "If you nail the slug who's behind this, I'll considered us even."  
  
 ************  
**  
Outside Niko's Pool Hall  
District 6  
Saturday, December 22, 2035  
1:58am  
  
Daley Wong got out of the police car slowly, feeling the effects of only six hours sleep in the last thirty-six. _I hate this job._  
  
The area surrounding him was alive with police, fire, and rescue personnel. Something covered with a sheet lay in the middle of the street. From the shape outlined under the bright yellow plastic, Daley knew it was a body. On the far side of the street, firefighters were in the process of putting the last glowing embers of a large fire that had consumed most of the first floor of an abandoned building.  
  
He tried to stifle a yawn, failed, and looked around for the senior detective. He spotted the man talking to a small group of N-policemen near the shattered door of a poolhall. He strode over causally and waited until the discussion broke up.  
  
"OK, Rubin," said Daley, not bothering to stifle another yawn. "What have you got that so important that you interrupt my beauty sleep?"  
  
Lieutenant Rubin Mindoro was a short, compact man with deeply tanned skin, sharp features, and an annoying cheerfulness that grated on Daley's nerves most of this time. When he turned and smiled at Daley, the ADP inspector felt his temples start to throb.  
  
"You'll like this, Daley," he said optimistically. "It's right up ADP's alley too."  
  
"What have you got?"  
  
"Three bodies, all male. Two inside Niko's poolhall here." He motioned to the shattered door near where he was standing, then pointed to the sheet covered body out in the street. "And one there. All three known thugs, all three carrying serious firepower, and all three as dead as my hopes of dating Vision."  
  
"So?"  
  
He motioned to the burnt out doorway across the street. "We have a fourth set of remains scattered across the street over there. The remains are not human."  
  
"Boomer?"  
  
Rubin nodded gleefully. "You got it. There's not much left of it, but it looks like it was a C-Class, armed like the other three."  
  
"But Boomers don't usually explode unless they have help."  
  
"This one had help, in the shape of a compact missile with a armor piercing warhead."  
  
"Oh?"  
  
"And none of the other bodies happen to have a rocket launcher lying around when we found them."  
  
"Looks like they were on the loosing side."  
  
"I can see why they promoted you, Daley. Nothing escape your eagle eyes."  
  
"Can the good cheer, Rubin," growled Daley. "What do you have on the winners?"  
  
"Less then we have on the losers. We know there was more then one, They are better then average shots, and they have a rocket launcher. That's about it." Rubin thought for a moment, then said, "We had some early reports of a Boomer, or someone in a hardsuit, heading west via the rooftop. We tried tracking down something more solid, but no dice. Our boy disappeared like a ghost in the rooftops."  
  
"What do the people in the poolhall say?"  
  
"According to the owner, he closed up at ten o'clock. He has no idea what happened."  
  
"Of course, you don't believe him."  
  
"Of course not. But he's not going to give us anything unless we beat it out of him."  
  
A low buzz interrupted the conversation. Rubin reached for his phone, pulled it out and said, "Mindoro here. It's your dime."  
  
He listened for several minutes, giving Daley the opportunity to walk over and look inside the pool hall. The place was a shambles, the result of what look like a small war. Several of the pool tables were torn apart by bullets, as well as most of the lamps and mirrors. A pair of plastic sheets covered the forms of the two victims, or rather the losers.  
  
"Daley!" shouted Rubin. "We got more problems!"  
  
"What?"  
  
"This wasn't the only attack tonight." Rubin had lost his cheerfulness. "There were three other attacks, and there were more successful then this one was. MO was the same - two man hit team, with a two man backup. Time to go down about the same time, too."  
  
"Who were the victims?"  
  
"A trio of freelancers, plus maybe another dozen people who were at the wrong place at the wrong time. These guys weren't too careful about who was near their target. But their victims didn't go quietly - the morgue has a couple of extra stiffs who made the same mistakes these boys made."  
  
"Any idea who the freelancers were working for?"  
  
Rubin shook his head. "But there's been rumblings on the street involving some big name corps."  
  
"Damn. If this is a Corpwar, we're way out of our league. What ever happen to the easy cases?"  
  
"Disappeared about the same time as the Dodo bird." Rubin managed to look more cheerful. "I'll send the Boomer pieces over to the ADP lab for the technerds to sift through."  
  
"Thanks. I'll put two ADP Tac teams on standby in case our friends go for a second round."  
  
"I'm not as worried about the hit teams as I am about the winners of this fight. You don't find people carrying around rocket launchers everyday."  
  
Daley looked at him. "Unless they're a Boomer, or a person in a hardsuit."  
  
"Our ghost?"  
  
The redhead shrugged. "Seems like it. Hell of a coincidence if your rooftop ghost had nothing to do with this."  
  
"Maybe the Knight Sabers were here."  
  
"I don't think so." Daley ticked off his points finger by finger. "First, the Knight Sabers work as a team - they don't do solo work. Second, they don't make it a habit of carrying rocket launchers. Third, Knight Sabers don't go around killing people, even these lowlives."  
  
Rubin nodded. "And fourth, the Knight Sabers don't use weapons that need nine and ten millimeter pistol rounds."  
  
Daley arched an eyebrow. "You're a sadistic bastard, Rubin. You know the Knight Sabers weren't behind this."  
  
Rubin grinned. "But it's nice having my opinions backed up by an senior ADP official. Makes my job easier."  
  
Daley sighed. "Anything else?"  
  
"Nope. You better get those Tac teams ready to roll. I think this was only round one of what could be a real nasty slugging match."  
  
"And were stuck in the middle. Wonderful."  
  
"Come on Daley, this is what they're paying you and Leon the big bucks for."  
  
"In that case, I want a raise."  
  
Rubin laughed. "That's the sprit. Speaking of which, where is your partner?"  
  
"On vacation."  
  
"Pick a hell of a time to take it."  
  
"You're telling me." Daley turned and walked away. "I'd better get going before round two gets underway."  
  
As he climbed back into his car, Daley had only one thought. _Damn it Leon! Where the Hell are you?_  
  
 ************  
**  
  



	12. Chapter 12

*************************************************  
  
 **Ch apter 12  
**  
  
Tinsel City  
Saturday, December 22, 2035  
2:37am  
  
This area of the MegaTokyo central district was a maze of bars, nightclubs, restaurants, strip joints, and other businesses that thrived at night. It was strictly an adult's playground, where those who had the money could find someone to supply pleasure.  
  
So, the sight of a young girl running through the late night crowds was more then an usual event. It was shocking, even to those who made their living off the need for pleasure. What was even more disturbing was the pair of large men in business suits who were pursuing the girl. While the girl slipped and dodged with some skill through the crowd, her pursers were less conscientious, shoving everyone between them and their quarry out of the way.  
  
The girl looked to be in her early teens, with long brown hair and an expression of pure terror on her lovely face. The clothes she wore, a dress and blouse reminiscent of a school uniform, were torn and stained. She didn't bother to scream or to seek help in one of the businesses, but continued to run through the crowd.  
  
Her pursers were gaining, their tactic of bulldozing though the crowd more successful then the girl's. Finally, the girl tripped on a protruding slab of concrete, and fell heavily. Before she could scramble away, the two men reached her.  
  
As one, they reached down and grabbed the girl by her arms. For the first time, she screamed. The two men ignored her cries, and hauled her to her feet. Still screaming, the girl struggled, but the men didn't release their hold. Without a word, they turned and started to drag the girl back in the direction they had come.  
  
A police officer spotted the incident, and pushed his way though the crowd toward the trio. "Hold it!" he shouted, drawing his sidearm from its holster. "You two! Freeze right there! I want -"  
  
The trio stopped. One of the men holding the girl calmly drew a large caliber pistol from under his jacket and shot the police officer several times. As the officer fell, the man shot several of the onlookers. As the crowd scattered in confusion and terror, the two men continued to drag the girl towards a car idling on a sidestreet, with its rear door open. The girl continued to scream and fight, but the men ignore her.  
  
One man climbed into the back seat, dragging the girl in after him. At the same time, the other man watched for any signs of pursuit. Satisfied there was none, the second man waved to a car idling twenty meters up the street before he joined the first man in the back seat. The door closed, and the car pulled out into the traffic, followed by the second car.  
  
They quickly disappeared into the heavy traffic, leaving a horror scene behind them.  
  
 ************  
**  
Gulf and Bradley - Japan Headquarters  
MegaTokyo, Japan  
Saturday, December 22, 2035  
2:41am  
  
Carlton Bradley watched the small blinking lights on the large map as the two cars drove away from Tinsel City, heading towards the Coastal highway. Cora stood next to him, her eyes bright with excitement as she watched her plan go into motion. Ozu stood behind them, his face impassive as he watched the blinking lights.  
  
A tech looked up from his console. "First phase of the operation has been completed. Decoy team has left the area."  
  
Another tech called out from another station. "Police report that the Boomers killed four people, wounded five more. One of the dead is a N-policeman."  
  
Cora smiled. "Excellent," she purred, looking at her brother. "Better then I'd hoped for."  
  
"Really?" asked Carlton mildly.  
  
"Of course, Brother dear. A dead policeman will definitely keep the ADP's communication requencies humming. It'll help draw out our enemies that much quicker." She then turned back to the screen and said, "Where are response teams Able and Baker at this minute?"  
  
A tech pushed a button, and two more lights appeared on the board, one some distance in front of the two cars, the other trailing. "Team Able is two point three kilometers in front of the decoy team. Team Baker is three point one kilometers behind the decoy team."  
  
Cora nodded. "Communications, I want both response teams to move closer to the decoy team. No more then one and a half kilometers from the decoy team, no closer then a kilometer. Remind them that they are not to move in unless I give the word."  
  
"Orders transmitted." There was a pause, then "Response teams are complying with the orders."  
  
Cora shuddered with delight. "Now, we wait, dear Brother."  
  
 ************  
**  
Coastal Highway  
District 6  
Saturday, December 22, 2035  
2:54am  
  
Priss was beyond disgusted; she was really angry now. Angry, and more then a little worried. No one had seen Leon in nearly eighteen hours, and she knew that was unusual for him. She even tried to track down Skeeter, one of Leon's main underworld contacts, but the big guy had faded into the background.  
  
After striking out at Skeeter's normal hangout, Priss decided to call it a night. She was too tired to continue, plus she hadn't gotten much sleep the night before. So, she was headed back to her trailer for several hours of slumber.  
  
The blast of an air horn behind her startled her. She quickly pulled over, just as a large semi barrelled through where she had been scant seconds before. The passing wave of air came close to knocking her off her bike, and she stayed on by the skin of her teeth. She slowed down and glared at the receding lights of the truck.  
  
 _What is that guy's problem?_ she thought angrily. _And where the hell is he going in such a hurry_? She glanced behind her, looking for any signs of pursuit, police, or otherwise. The only other vehicles in sight were a pair of dark cars coming up fast. Another tractor trailer a kilometer behind the cars paced them.  
  
Under her helmet, Priss frowned. _Something's going on. I can feel it. But what?_  
  
She drifted over to the far lane, giving the cars and truck a clear lane. Opening the throttle, she sped up, keeping her speed just below that of the approaching vehicles. She watched the cars slowly overtake her in the bike's rear view mirror.  
  
They were typical company cars - nondescript, dark gray in color, with tinted windows. Something in the back of Priss's mind whispered that there was something wrong here, but she couldn't consciously pinpoint the source of her uneasiness. She watched them pass, and her uneasiness grew.  
  
She heard the sound of a motor, and she looked up and behind her. An ADP vehicle, a one man patrol chopper, was approaching the highway from the direction where the cars had come from. Coming in fast and low.  
  
It shot over the cars at a high rate of speed, then pulled up and away. Priss slowed and watched the chopper turn and come back towards the two cars, flying higher and slower this time.  
  
 _Hot dog_ , thought Priss sourly. _Why don't you --_  
  
A sunroof in the first car opened and a man in a business suit stood up inside the car. Priss's experienced eye told her that the man wasn't human, but a Boomer in disguise. She cursed to herself when she'd realized the Boomer held a rocker launcher, and was aiming it at the oncoming chopper.  
  
The pilot must have seen the rocket launcher at the same instance, because he pulled up quickly, trying to put distance between him and the rocket launcher. Despite the car's speed, the man in the car tracked the chopper with cool precision, waiting for the right moment.  
  
As the chopper reached for altitude the man fired the rocket launcher. The rocket sped away, its engine lighting up the night. The chopper tried to twist away from the rocket, but the missile readjusted its track and closed in on the ADP vehicle. Priss saw several small canisters fall from the chopper, and explode with a shower of glittering strips. The rocket ignored the chaff, and pass through the strips and closed in on the chopper.  
  
The explosion lit up the night in a way a simple rocket engine couldn't. A blossom of fire and smoke opened several hundred feet above the city. The wreaked chopper plunged to earth, leaving a trail of fire and debris in its wake.  
  
Priss tore her gaze from the dying chopper just in time to see the two cars speed up and pull away from her. She lowered herself onto her bike to present as small a target as she could, in case someone in the cars decided she was next.  
  
 _Son of a Bitch,_ she thought. _I've got to alert Sylia_.  
  
She reached for the small pager Sylia insisted they Knight Sabers all wear and activated it. Hopefully, Sylia would realize something was wrong, and act accordingly. In any event, Priss had to keep trailing the two cars, and hope for backup soon.  
  
 ************  
**  
  



	13. Chapter 13

*************************************************  
  
  
 **Chapter 13  
**  
Sylia's Apartment  
Saturday, December 22, 2035  
2:56am  
  
Sylia stood at the window of her apartment, an almost full cup of coffee in her hands. Outside, the city was almost asleep, a slumbering giant in the darkness. She watched the lights of the few cars that were on the street, her thoughts on a street she'd been on less then four hours ago.  
  
She couldn't sleep. The entire incident replayed itself in her mind repeatedly....  
  
 _. . . Without thought, she turned and started tracking the closer of the two figures running towards her. They had appeared from an alley half a block down the street. In the dim light, all Sylia could make out was they both males, wore the worn clothing of street people, and carried assault rifles._  
  
The N-Police on some type of raid? she thought. Where are the sirens, and the uniformed officers?  
  
AD Police!" she yelled at them. "Identify yourself!"  
  
The nearer figure stopped fifty meters away, snapped the assault rifle he carried to his shoulder and opened fire. The muzzle vomited flame, and a high pitched ripping sound started.  
  
Damn! That answers my question! Sylia dropped to one knee and fired twice, the flat crack of her pistol startling in the once silent night. Her target folded over and collapsed, the rifle falling out of his hand and clattering on the street. Without pause, Sylia started tracking the other target. Before she could fire, the figure threw himself into a darken doorway thirty meters down the street from her. . . .  
  
She shivered, and sipped the lukewarm coffee. _What's wrong with me?_ she thought savagely. _The bastard tried to kill me! Why am I wondering if I did the right thing? Or am I wondering how I managed to kill him without thinking about it?_

She turned to look at the envelope Fargo had given her. It laid opened on the table behind her, forgotten for the last half hour. The contents consisted of a single sheet of paper, neatly typed. She picked it up and read it again.  
  
Knight Sabers,  
  
Forgive this clumsy way of contacting you, but it is necessary for everyone  
concerned. I am the leader of a group like yours, a mercenary team with access  
to hardsuits. Business has forced us to come to MegaTokyo. Be assured that you  
are not our target in any way, shape, or form. We also do not knowingly work for  
GENOM, and never will.  
  
Also, be assured that the object we are here to retrieve is the property of  
our employers, that was stolen from them several days ago, and we have every right  
to reclaim the object for our employers. I will personally guarantee the object  
in question will never be directed towards you. In fact, if we do not retrieve the  
object, it could affect the future efforts of your team in this city.  
  
  
Thank you for your time and trouble,  
Knight One, The Black Knights.  
  
She shook her head slowly as she put it down on the table. The letter read as part business letter, part challenge, and part plea not to interfere. From what she'd learned over the last day or so, it appeared that MALCORP didn't trust the Knight Sabers. Yet, someone knew enough to find her regular contact, pass along the letter, then follow him to the meeting site.  
  
She went over to the couch, and sat down. Somehow, Knight One knew her childhood nickname. She replayed the conversation in the pool hall in her mind, trying to remember if Fargo mentioned her name at any time. Their entire conversation might have been overheard, with the Knight doing the listening.  
  
After several minutes, she frowned. Fargo hadn't used her name at anytime during the meeting. The only time he'd use it was after the meeting, when he'd charged out of the poolhall - after Knight One had called her by nickname twice.  
  
She thought about the conversation the three had after the Knight had landed in front of them. Strange, the Knight didn't say her name after Fargo came out into the street, referring to her only as Fargo's `contact'. A _s if the Knight didn't want Fargo to know what had happened_.  
  
She closed her eyes and tried to put it altogether. On the table in front of her, a small light on her Knight Saber transmitter was blinking on and off rapidly.  
  
************  
**   
Warehouse #41526584  
Yokohama District  
Saturday, December 22, 2035  
2:55am  
  
Leon looked the warehouse dubiously as Jeena stopped the car near the small entrance door. "Nice place."  
  
"Don't blame me," replied Jeena, as she turned off the engine. "All Mr. Mallory told me was find you and bring you here. I'm as much in the dark on what he wants as you are."  
  
They both got out of the car. Leon pulled out his pistol and double checked the cylinder. Jeena did the same, each taking a small comfort in the ritual.  
  
"Ready, Partner?" asked Leon.  
  
"I'm always ready."  
  
"Fine," said a voice from the darkness nearby. "Now, if you're finish acting like cowboys, Mr. Mallory wants to see you right this minute."  
  
Two forms loomed out of the shadows. The low light glinted off burnished black armor with dark gold highlights. A small insignia - a black knight's head on a gold shield - was on the hardsuit's right breast.  
  
Leon found himself reaching for his pistol before one of the newcomers raised a hand. "Don't bother, Inspector," said the same voice who had spoken from the darkness. It was a female voice, but electronically distorted to disguised it. "Your firearm would not be effective against these hardsuits."  
  
Leon slowly brought his empty hand out of his coat. "The Black Knights?"  
  
The Knight nodded. "I see you've heard of us."  
  
"I make it a point of knowing all the major mercenary outfits. You're working for MALCORP?"  
  
"At the current time. This way."  
  
With the spokesperson leading the way, the four of them entered the warehouse through a door hidden in the shadows. Inside, there was a great deal of activity, as at least dozen people were working on reading for something. Leon saw several other hardsuited members of the Black  
Knights moving around,while a couple of others were being assisted by technicians wearing gray overalls. Several more were sitting at several tables loaded with electronic equipment. Still other technicians were working on a trio of ugly looking helicopters. A small group of grim looking people were standing around a small table placed just outside the warehouse's office.  
  
Greg Mallory looked up as Leon and the others approached them. "You finally got my message?"  
  
Leon nodded. "I turn up a possible lead on Janie just before Jeena found me."  
  
"It took me some time to find him," said Jeena causally. "I'd forgotten how many places there are down in that neck of the woods."  
  
Mallory was dressed in a gray jumpsuit, with a holstered pistol on a belt around his hip. "No time for beating around the bush. What have you got?"  
  
"One of my sources told me that Gulf and Bradley Japan brought in a Doctor Yin Zin-Choon late last week. He's a specialist in informational retrieval."  
  
"I've heard of him. What else?"  
  
"That the local head of G and B is itching for a fight against GENOM."  
  
"Carlton Bradley?"  
  
"And his sister too."  
  
"Damn." Mallory looked down at the table. "Someone's been moving against the freelancers MALCORP hired to find Janie."  
  
Leon nodded. "That's what my contact told me. I -"  
  
"Sir!" shouted a technician sitting at one of the tables. "There's been an incident in Tinsel City. At least five people dead, and there's reports that it all started with two guys chasing a girl matching Janie VanDell's description."  
  
Mallory's head turned towards the technician. "I want confirmation as soon as possible." He looked at one of the men standing around the table. "How long until the Rattlesnakes are ready?"  
  
"Ten minutes."  
  
"You have five."  
  
The man nodded and sprinted off towards the helicopters, his voice sharp and demanding. The technician monitoring the Police communications spoke up again. "The report is confirmed, sir. Also, the ADP just had one of their patrol chopper shot out of the sky. He was tracking two cars that matched the description of the ones seen in Tinsel City."  
  
"Last know locations of the cars?"  
  
"Coastal Highway, District Six."  
  
"Less then ten kilometers away by air," muttered Mallory, looking down at the map before him. He turned and shouted "All Knights! Suit up and get ready to move out!"  
  
The small knot of people around him dissolved as they moved away from the table. Mallory unhooked the gun belt around his waist and placed it on the table. He looked up at Leon and Jeena while he started unzipping the jumpsuit. "Either one of you have gunnery experience?"  
  
"We both do," said Jeena quickly. "Aerial and ground."  
  
"Good. Rattler Two and Three need experienced gunners. It seems our regular gunners both come down with a bad case of food poisoning. Go over and get a quick rundown on the weapon systems."  
  
Jeena nodded, and strode off. Leon stood and watched his new boss. Mallory finished stripping off the jumpsuit. He was wearing a tight fitting suit that Leon reconized as innerwear for a hardsuit pilot. "You're going out with the Knights?" he asked.  
  
"No, I'm going to lead the Knights out there," said Mallory defiantly. "And I know what I'm doing. Who do you think formed the Black Knights to begin with?" He motioned with his head towards the helicopters. "You'd better get going. It's an even bet this entire event is a trap  
designed to draw us out into the open. If so, we're going to need everyone to survive this."  
  
Leon nodded and jogged towards the Rattlesnakes.  
  
************  
**   



	14. Chapter 14

*************************************************  
  
  
 **Chapter 14  
**  
  
Above District 6  
December 22, 2035  
3:15am  
  
The Knight Wing was flying high and fast, passing through the air above MegaToyko like a giant bat. Mackie was in the pilot's seat, guiding the aircraft towards the target. Linna, Sylia, and Nene in the cargo bay, making their last system checks. There was an air of tension, mostly because of Priss's distress signal, but in part because of the chatter on the ADP channels. It wasn't clear what was happening yet, but the ADP had already lost a patrol chopper, which meant trouble.  
  
Sylia had her visor up, but her thoughts were still scattered. Back at her apartment, it had taken several seconds for the low tone of the emergency beacon to register before she responded. But, once she did, she allowed the training and familiarity to take over.  
  
She glanced at Linna. She'd been the first to arrive, just as Sylia had bought all the hardsuits on line. There hadn't been any conversation between the two of them as they suited up, for which Sylia was grateful. She still felt unfocused, and she needed every minute before they reached the area to pull herself together.  
  
"ADP's bring up three more patrol choppers to track the vehicles," said Nene from the communications console. She and Mackie had arrive together ten minutes after Linna. With their clothes in disarray, they tried to maintain a disinterest in each other, but only succeeded in looking equal parts guilty, angry, and nervous. If the situation hadn't been so serious, Sylia might have smiled about it.  
  
"Nine minutes to Priss's tracker, Sis," said Mackie. "It looks like she's still on the Coastal highway."  
  
"Understood, Mackie," replied Sylia, her voice distorted by the hardsuit she was wearing. "As soon as we get there, I want you to hold position and give Priss a chance to get aboard and suit up."  
  
"Is that wise?" came the reply. "I haven't been in this cockpit for over a year. If things get hairy, you might be out one Knight Wing and one brother."  
  
"It's either that, or you suit up with us, and carry Priss's hardsuit down to her."  
  
"All right, but don't expect more then covering fire from me."  
  
"I won't expect to lead the charge - that's Priss's job. Once Priss joins up with us, I want you to stand off and wait for my signal." She turned to Nene. "We should be close enough to Priss to contact her. Find out exactly what we're flying into to."  
  
"Right!"  
  
"Are you all right, Sylia?" asked Linna. "You sound nervous."  
  
Sylia didn't look at her. She didn't want to show any signs of weakness in front of her team mates.  
  
"Sylia!" called Nene. "I've got Priss!"  
  
"Let me speak to her."  
  
"Patching you through."  
  
"Priss, this is Sylia. What's happening?"  
  
Priss's voice sounded distracted and distant. //There's two cars heading southeast at a high rate of speed. There's at least one Boomer in the first car - it took out an ADP patrol chopper. And - damn!// There were sounds of explosions in the background, followed by a long stream of curses from Priss.  
  
"What happened?" Sylia asked coolly, feeling the mask she wore as team leader slip into place.  
  
//Those SOB's just starting firing at me!//  
  
"Are you all right?"  
  
//So far - got to go - just hurry up, will you?//  
  
"Just hang on," replied Sylia, the command mask firmly in place now. "ETA is eight minutes."  
  
//Make it as soon as possible, OK? Priss out.//  
  
"Sylia!" said Nene, looking up from the console. "There's reports on the ADP channels that the occupants of the two cars Priss is following were involved in an incident in Tinsel City. They killed several people, including a N-policeman, and kidnapped a girl off the street. Their description sound like Boomers in human form."  
  
"Sis," cut in Mackie. "I-radar's picking up three objects coming in from the southwest, moving in low and fast."  
  
"Any ID on them?"  
  
"None. But whoever they are, they're not ADP. I'm picking up targeting systems and heavy ECM jamming from them."  
  
"Nene, see if you can burn through their ECM and get an ID on them. Mackie, What's their ETA to Priss's location?"  
  
"Five minutes. Do you want me to increase speed?"  
  
"Go ahead. Linna, get the Motoslaves ready. We might need their firepower on the ground."  
  
"Right."  
  
 ************  
**  
Above District 6  
Saturday, December 22, 2035  
3:17pm  
  
From the gunner's seat of Rattler Two, Leon watched the city pass around and below them. _I don't believe this,_ he thought. _I must be breaking several dozen laws just by sitting here. And you know something, right now, I don't give a damn._  
  
"What was that?" asked Rattler Two's pilot, a hard faced man who'd introduced himself only as Trask. He was sitting behind and slightly above Leon. "I didn't quite catch that."  
  
"Nothing." He flipped over to the main frequency the force was using. While he listened in the snatches of conversation, he looked down at the gunnery controls. These Rattlesnakes were ugly looking, but they didn't skimp on firepower. Based on the old Soviet Hind Helicopters of the last century, these airships were flying tanks. A single 25mm rotary cannon in a flex mount located just under the gunship's nose was tied directly into his helmet. All he had to do was look in the direction he wanted, and the cannon followed. On a pair of stubby pylons that jutted from just behind the cockpit, the rest of the craft's firepower sat. Each pylon had a 60mm recoilless rifle inboard, then a drum launcher with forty HE rockets, and on the outboard, a pair of twin purpose air to air/air to ground missiles.  
  
Behind the pylons, a cargo compartment big enough for six people was accessible by a large door on each side of the fuselage. Right now, two of the helicopter compartments were occupied by three hardsuited Knights, while the lead Rattlesnake carried Mallory and three others.  
  
"ETA in three minutes," said the pilot of Rattler One. "Gunners, We are now in a free fire zone. Stand by on weapons."  
  
"Gunner One here, standing by."  
  
"Gunner Two," said Leon calmly. "Standing by."  
  
Jeena's voice held a faint trace of amusement as she said, "Gunner Three, standing by."  
  
"All Rattlers," interrupted a new voice. "This is Nest One. Be advised that we have a possible contact coming in from the Northeast."  
  
"Nest One, this is Knight One. Can you confirm contact?"  
  
"Negative, Knight One. Too much ground clutter."  
  
"Understood. Rattler Two, increase altitude, and see if you can get above the ground clutter."  
  
"Roger, Knight One," replied the pilot, and Leon felt the helicopter begin to climb quickly. In less then thirty seconds, the helicopter climbed two thousand feet, then leveled off.  
  
"Rattler Two here," said Trask. "Contact is confirmed. Computer is trying to ID it right now." After several seconds, Trask said, "Computer can't match contact's profile with anything in it's memory."  
  
"Knight One to Gunner Two. Can you ID the contact?"  
  
Leon looked at a small screen on the left side of the gunner's station. The screen showed a lean, twin engine VTOL that he knew at once. _Damn! They would have to show up now!_ "Gunner Two to Knight One. Affirmative on the ID. Be advised the contact is the Knight Sabers. That's their aircraft, the KnightWing."  
  
"Understood, Gunner Two. Maintain watch on the contact." Mallory's voice was crisp, but Leon heard some of the tension in his voice. "All Rattlers, This is Knight One. The contact is to be considered neutral, I repeat, the contact is to be considered neutral. According to our local expert, it's the Knight Sabers. Neither their aircraft or any of it's occupants will not be fired on unless they fires at us, or I use an Omega command. Verbal response, please."  
  
For several seconds, the airwaves were full of "Roger," "Understood," and the occasional "Clear". Leon asked the pilot. "What's an Omega command?"  
  
"Pray you never find out," replied Trask brusquely. "ETA to landing sight is one minute."  
  
Leon glanced out the window, and saw the highway several thousand feet below and off to his right. He saw two cars, one behind the other, moving rapidly towards them. Every few seconds, there was a series of flashes from rear of the cars. _Shit! They're firing at something!_ He shifted his gaze in the direction they fire was heading, and he felt his stomach lurch as he saw the figure on a motorcycle a hundred meters behind the cars. _Priss!_  
  
He knew it was her as soon as he saw her. Only someone with plenty of experience riding motorcycles at high speed, or suicidal, or both, would be trying to weave and bob through gunfire and explosions. _Get the hell out of there_ , he thought. _Leave these guys to us_.  
  
 _Us? When do you become part of this outfit?_ a dry voice reminded him. _You're along because you know the city, plus you're an experience gunner. Nothing more._  
  
"Gunner Two to Knight One. There appears to be a running gun battle between the targets and someone else."  
  
"I see it," replied Mallory. "White team, stand -"  
  
"Blue Leader to Knight One," growled a new voice. "Check out the two semis on the highway, the one about a kilometer ahead of our targets, and the one about the same distance behind."  
  
Leon tore his gaze away from Priss, and spotted the two tractor trailers just as Mallory said, "I see them. They don't seem too concerned about the gunfight, do they?"  
  
"They don't. They could be blind, or just stupid, but I doubt it. Remind you of MegaNew York?"  
  
"Hell, yes. You want to bet their cargo is BU-12's?"  
  
"Knight One, this is Red Four. I just scanned those trailers, and I'm picking up a huge amount of eletromagnetic disturbances from them - just like a bunch of Boomers getting ready to go into combat."  
  
"No bet," said Blue Leader. "This is a trap all right. How do you want to play it?"  
  
"We spring the trap, but not the way they want us to. Blue team, the rear semi is your target. White team, the forward semi. I want them stopped, any way possible. Use the Rattlers for fire support, and don't worry about sparing ordnance - ammo is easy to replace, people aren't. Red team has the cars. Red Four, try and contact the Knight Sabers. Let me know when you do make contact with them. Any questions?"  
  
There were none. "All right Knights," said Mallory briskly. "Let's go to work."  
  
 ************  
**  
  



	15. Chapter 15

*************************************************  
  
 **Ch apter 15  
**  
  
Highway 17  
District 6  
Saturday, December 22, 2035  
3:18am  
  
"Sylia!"  
  
The Knight Saber's leader looked up from the map and looked at Nene. "Yes?"  
  
"I'm getting a signal from someone asking for the Knight Sabers. He claims to be one of the Black Knights."  
  
"Location?"  
  
"It's from one of the unknown contacts."  
  
"Sis!" shouted Mackie from the cockpit. "I can see several explosions on the highway, right near where Priss is suppose to be!"  
  
"Nene, patch the Black Knight through. ETA to drop area?"  
  
"Four minutes."  
  
"Are the Motorslaves ready, Linna?"  
  
From the back of the compartment, the green hardsuit waved an arm. "As ready as they can be."  
  
"Patching the Knight through now, Sylia."  
  
Sylia nodded. "This is White Saber. Who is this?"  
  
For several seconds there was silence, the a voice said, //This is Red Four, of the Black Knights.// The voice was clipped and the electronic distortion robbed the voice of most of its emotion. //Be advised that the current situation you are flying toward is a trap, I repeat, a trap. Knight One is advising that you stand off and stand by.//  
  
"Negative, Red Four," said Sylia coldly. "I don't take orders from Knight One."  
  
//White Saber, this is Knight One,// said a familiar voice. //This entire incident below is a trap of some sort. My team is in the process of springing it, so I advise you to stand off for the time being.//  
  
"Negative, Knight One. This is our city, not yours. We are not going to stand by."  
  
Sylia thought she heard Knight One mutter a curse, then said, //All right, White Saber. Since you won't stand off, you might as well join the party. I recommend that you come in behind the cars. Do you see the tractor trailers in front and behind the cars?//  
  
"I see them sis," said Mackie over the internal line. "Looks like the Knights are going after them too."  
  
"We see them, Knight One," said Sylia.  
  
//Be careful of them. Their cargo are BU-12B combat Boomers, getting ready to spring the trap.//  
  
"We are well versed in Boomer combat, Knight One."  
  
//I never said you weren't. Just be careful, Okay?//  
  
"Understood, Knight One. We will be. I suggest we keep this channel as our line of communications between you and me."  
  
//Understood, White Saber. I'll alert my people that you're coming in. See you when you get down here.//  
  
"Understood, Knight One. White Saber out." Sylia took several seconds to add the new frequency to her comm unit, then turned to Nene. "Contact Priss, and tell her what's happening. Mackie, Linna, get ready to for a hot landing zone."  
  
Sylia heard the Knight Wing's powerful weapons deploy, and lock into place. She thought for a second that maybe she'd was pushing things a bit, but she dismissed the idea. _I've never let anyone fight my battles before. I won't start now._  
  
 ************  
**  
Priss twisted her bike hard to the right to avoid another explosion that threw up concrete and bits of shrapnel. _Where the hell are you Sylia?_ she thought savagely, as she twisted the bike to the left to present an elusive a target as she could.  
  
She hated this one sided fight. There were at least two Boomers firing at her from the rear car, and there was almost nothing she could do to stop them. As much as she wanted to, she couldn't just pull out her pistol and return fire. She didn't dare to remove either hand from the bike's handles at this speed. Slowing down was also out, as that would present the Boomers with a better target. And besides, she doubted that her firearm would be able to hit a Boomer's vital spot at this range anyway.  
  
But the thought of backing off the pursuit until the Knight Wing arrived only briefly crossed her mind. She was angry now. Angry at the band for dumping her, enraged at Leon for disappearing off the face of the earth, and mad at Sylia for not being here yet. Finally, she was furious at the Boomers in front of her for showing themselves when she was around. There was no way in hell that she was going to show a group of Boomers anything but a snarl and the muzzle bore of the largest weapon she could carry.  
  
She eased off the bike's accelerator slightly, putting twenty more meters between her and the cars. She started drifting to her right, trying to put herself in a more difficult location for the Boomers to get a shot at her. _If Sylia and the others don't show up soon, I'll -_  
  
Something large and loud roared out of the night, passing over her head, heading in the opposite direction. A high pitched whine, like the cry of a fantastic beast, echoed in her helmet. She snapped her head around to track whatever it was, but all she could make out was a black shape heading away from her very fast in the night sky.  
  
She turned back to locate the cars, when the highway in front of the two vehicles exploded in a mass of flame, smoke, and noise. Both cars came to a hard stop, the screaming of their brakes almost drowned out by the roar of flames. Priss applied her own brakes hard, sluing the cycle in a half circle to a stop.  
  
Beyond the cars, something large and black hung five meters above the roadway, smoke from the explosion swirling around it like a halo. This time, Priss could hear the whine, and feel it in the concrete beneath her feet. Whatever it was, it wasn't the Knight Wing. She flipped up her visor to get a better look at the object.  
  
After several seconds of hard staring, Priss realized what it was. _A helicopter?_ she thought, an uncomfortable feeling at the back of her neck. _Not ADP's, that for sure. But whose? </</i>I>_  
  
Despite the shadows Priss watched four shadowy figures drop from the helicopter into the smoke. The car doors quickly opened, and Boomers stepped out and started shedding their human disguises in preparation for battle.  
  
I think we're in trouble.  
  
 ************  
**  
Leon watched the semi slow as the Rattlesnake approached it. His hands tightened on the joystick as he waited for the HUD to line up on the trailer. He heard Mallory order Rattler one to fire in front of the cars, and heard faintly the explosions a kilometer behind him.  
  
"Pilot, Drop us lower," said Blue Leader from the cargo compartment. "We'll hit them from the ground. Gunner, you can fire whenever you're ready."  
  
"Understood," replied Leon. Just then, the HUD beeped a target lock. Leon opened fire. Two 60mm shells slammed into the front of the truck, shattering the engine, and sending smoke and flame into the night air. Fifty meters from the helicopter, the truck came to a complete stop, like it had hit an invisible brick wall. As it did so, the trailer exploded like fragile glass, and a least half a dozen Boomers came swarming out of the trailers remains.  
  
Three Boomers activated their thrusters and sprang at the Rattlesnake, while the others ran towards the cars. Leon cursed as he saw they were BU-12s - Boomers designed solely for use in combat. Three arms came up, and all three fired.  
  
Trask hissed a curse, and banked the Rattlesnake hard to the left. Three streams of machine gun bullets passed the airspace where the helicopter had just been. Leon locked on one of the Boomers and opened fired with the 25mm rotary cannon. The Boomer suddenly lost most of its head, shoulders, and upper chest to a dozen rounds of depleted uranium. It dropped like a rock to the roadway below, and exploded.  
  
"Blue team down," called out Blue Leader. Leon's head snapped down to see three black-and-gold hardsuits moving to intercept the Boomers still on the ground. He hadn't even known they had jumped until that second. _Good Luck_ , he thought, then started looking for the other two Boomers.  
  
"Three o'clock!" shouted Trask. Leon looked right just in time to see one of the Boomers sink a claw into the pylon between the air to air missiles and the rocket drum. It raised the other arm to fire into the cockpit, and he found himself staring down the barrel of the machine gun. Immediately, he tightened his finger on the rotary cannon's trigger, but nothing happened.  
  
"I can't shoot him!" Leon yelled.  
  
"Damn safety interlock," snarled Trask. He slammed the chopper hard over to the right, trying to shake the Boomer off. But the Boomer hung on, even though its return fire missed the cockpit by centimeters.  
  
"Ill worry about our passenger," snarled Trask. "Find that other Boomer before it nail us."  
  
"Understood." Leon started looking, but the flames, smoke and explosions were making the job difficult.  
  
The chopper suddenly lost height and slued to the right. Had Leon not been securely strapped in, he would have gone crashing into the windshield. As it was, his helmet saved him from a concussion, though his vision was blurred for several seconds. By the time it cleared, Leon saw the ground rushing up at him very quickly. _This has not been my day!_  
  
With a loud groan, Trask yanked up hard on the joystick. The Rattlesnake bounced hard on the roadway, then shot up into the air again, the rotors clawing for air. Leon looked at where the BU-12 had been holding on, and mouthed a curse. The Boomer was still there, somewhat battered by the touch-and-go tactic, but still functional.  
  
He shouted, "Its still there!"  
  
"I can't shake him!" bellowed Trask. The chopper continued to twist and weave, but the Boomer simple hung on.  
  
"Can you hold this ship steady for three seconds?" asked Leon, reaching for his pistol.  
  
"And have that thing plaster us?"  
  
"Not if I get it first." He checked the pistol cylinder. "On three." His right hand reached over to pull open a sliding panel in the helicopter's canopy. "One." He pulled open the panel, and a thin rush of cold air entered the cockpit. He raised his visor. "Two." He poked the muzzle of his Rugar Redhawk through the narrow hole, and leaned forward to stare down the barrel at his target. The Boomer was too busy just hanging on to notice the new danger yet.  
  
"Three." As soon as the helicopter straightened out and flew straight, Leon fired as fast as he could pull the trigger. Four .44 magnum bullets crashed into the Boomer's right wrist, where the armor was thinnest. Greatly weakened by the sledgehammer blows, the joint snapped with an audible crack. The Boomer dropped away from the helicopter into the war zone below, its claw still attached to the pylon.  
  
"About time!" shouted Trask, sounding relieved. "Stand by to trash that sucker with some rockets!" He swung the Rattlesnake around quickly, and put the chopper into a shallow dive. Leon ropped the still smoking pistol into his lap, and turn the switches controlling the rocket drums on. Two green lights told him they were ready to fire. Just then, Leon saw the Boomer in his sights.  
  
The Boomer had fallen at least two hundred feet from the chopper to the hard surface of the roadway, near the bonfire that had been the semi. Had it been human, the fall would have killed it instantly. But it wasn't a human.  
  
The fall had seriously damaged it, though. As Leon lined up his shot, he could see it was still struggling to stand, despite the fact it was leaking several different fluids. _Let's see how you like THIS_. His finger tightened on the trigger for the rockets.  
  
A dozen HE rockets shot from the Rattlesnake and left a trail of smoke and flame as they bore in on the damaged Boomer. They hit in and around the cyberdroid almost at the same time, the series of loud discharges sounding like one long rolling thunderclap. The series of explosions shattered the Boomer like an eggshell under the impact of a sledgehammer. Before the chopper pulled up into the night sky, Leon saw the flaming wreckage scattered across several meters of roadway.  
  
"That's two," muttered Trask. "Where's number three?"  
  
Just then, Leon spotted a familiar shape in the night sky five hundred meters away. The Knight Wing had arrived. As he watched, the VTOL hovered just above the roadway, and three well-known hardsuits dropped to the surface. Four other figures dropped from the VTOL, much larger then the first three, and opened fire on the closest Boomers.  
  
Trask saw them too. "Rattler Two to All Knights. The Knight Sabers are on the ground near Red Team's location."  
  
"Understood Rattler Two," replied Mallory.  
  
Leon saw something glint in the night sky. "Here comes number three," he said quickly, all thoughts about the Knight Sabers forgotten. "Two o'clock high."  
  
"I see him," said Trask. "Let's see if this Buma can dance any better then the others."  
  
 ************  
**  
  



	16. Chapter 16

*************************************************  
  
 **Ch apter 16  
**  
Gulf and Bradley - Japan Headquarters  
MegaTokyo, Japan  
Saturday, December 22, 2035  
3:24am  
  
"Status!" snapped Cora, her eyes flashing in anger. Her plan was beginning to fall apart. She hadn't counted on both the Black Knights and the Knight Sabers arriving at the same time in the target area, and the lethal gunships the Black Knights were using in their assault.  
  
One of the techs looked up at her, his face taking on an eerie look from the light on his screen. "The Decoy team has lost two Boomers so far. Response team Able is down to three Boomers, Team Baker is down to four."  
  
"Damn!" She whirled toward another tech. "How much time left until the satellite is in position?"  
  
"Four minutes. We can start override procedures in three minutes, fifteen seconds."  
  
"Can you still pull this off?" asked Carlton quietly.  
  
Cora glanced at her brother. He watched her reaction silently, his face showing no emotion. Ozu was taking a polite interest in the ceiling overhead.  
  
She nodded and looked away. She wouldn't get any help there. She would have to commit the reserves. She had wanted to keep them ready to mop up any survivors after the orbital attack, but there was no choice now.  
  
"Right." She turned to the first tech. "Activate Charlie Team, and send them in. Tell Teams Able and Baker that they are to hold both The Black Knights and the Knight Sabers in their current location at all costs. As soon as Charlie moves in, they are to pull back and contain the perimeter."  
  
"Yes, Ma'am."  
  
Without looking at the second tech, she said, "As soon as the satellite is in range, begin override procedures."  
  
"Understood."  
  
She looked at her brother again. "This will work."  
  
Carlton folded his arms, and stared at the screen in front of him. "We shall see, sister. We shall see."  
  
 ************  
**  
Highway 17  
District 6  
Saturday, December 22, 2035  
3:25am  
  
Sylia landed gracefully on the roadway half a second before Linna and Nene. Behind the three Sabers, four large Motoslaves landed with less grace, but with more authority.  
  
Sylia opened her commline. "Anyone see Priss?"  
  
"Over there!" shouted Nene, pointing off to the left.  
  
Sylia heard the bike before she saw it. The well-known red and white bike roared out of the smoke and sped toward them. The rider waved at them, then veered off to head toward the Knight Wing.  
  
"Nene, cover our rear with Priss's and your Motorslaves. Linna and I are going to go link up with Knight One and his people."  
  
"Right!"  
  
Sylia ran easily toward the battle around the cars, followed by Linna and their Motoslaves. As they reached the halfway point, her channel with the Knight Wing came to life. "Priss is aboard, Sis," said Mackie. "I'm going to move the Knight Wing to a higher altitude, then come back in once Priss is ready."  
  
"Sounds good," replied Sylia. "After you do that, stay clear of the combat area until I call you."  
  
"Understood. Mackie out."  
  
 _Combat area? Try a war zone._ The area was alive with explosions, smoke, fire, lasers and tracers. The sounds matched the sight around them, violent and continual. _How many Boomers are there out here?_ she thought. _And how many Knights?_  
  
She opened the comm channel she and Knight One had agreed on. "White Saber to Knight One. We are down and approaching your position."  
  
There was silence for a second, then Knight One replied. "Understood, White Saber. Be advised that two of the Boomers have broken off their attacks against us, and are heading your way on thrusters. You should see them in about five seconds."  
  
As if on cue, two BU-55s Boomers, their bluish metallic skin glittering in the uneven light, shot out of the smoke toward Sylia, closing rapidly. "I see them. White Saber out." She switched back over to the team comm channel, and said, "I've got the one on the right."  
  
"I've got the one on the left," replied Linna, moving away from Sylia at an angle, pulling her target away from the other Boomer. Her Motoslaves followed behind her, firing its machine cannon at the charging Boomer in an attempt to weaken it.  
  
Sylia ran toward her target, focusing all the Boomer's attention on her. Thirty meters from the quickly closing Boomer, She deployed her wings and leapt into the air. The Boomer lunging at her slowed to track her, its arm mounted laser ready to fire. As Sylia reached the top of her leap, her Motoslaves opened fire on the distracted Boomer with its massive MG-442 machine cannon. A blast of 35mm rounds passed under the airborne Saber, and ripped into the Cyberdroid, shattering armor, and shredding the Boomer's right arm.  
  
Staggered by the unexpected attack, the Boomer was slow to respond to Sylia's next movement. She flipped forward, and both of the hardsuit's laserswords snapped into place. The Boomer recover just in time to receive a hard sidekick in the face that broke the Cyberdroid's  
jaw, and smashed the mouth laser's mirrors.  
  
Using the kick to propel her, Sylia did a tight backflip, and landed right in front of the damaged Boomer. As her feet touched the roadway, she crossed her arms in front of her, then snapped them out in a short tight motion, the twin laserswords disemboweling the Boomer. As the Boomer dropped to one knee, Sylia fired both arm lasers into its head, destroying it.  
  
As the Boomer dropped to the ground, Sylia turned to see Linna's progress with her target. She was in time to see Linna and her Motoslave team up to finish off their badly battered Boomer.  
  
Unlike Sylia's Typhoon, Linna's Motoslaves carried a smaller, pistol-like hand-cannon, which it could fire one handed. The green Motoslave's free hand shot out and punched the Boomer in the head. The Boomer's head snapped back, small pieces of metal and other materials flying off it into the night. The Cyberdroid snarled and counterattacked, its fists' twin pistons that hammered hard at its opponent.  
  
Just then, Linna, lurking behind her Typhoon, jumped up and over the struggling pair of mecha, snapping her head forward and releasing the helmet's cutting ribbons as she did so. The monoribbons removed both the Boomer's arms cleanly at the shoulders, sending fluids and both  
arms to fall onto the much abused roadway.  
  
As Linna landed behind the Cyberdroid, her Motoslave brought its free hand down hard onto the armless Boomer's head, crushing it like an eggshell. Several minor explosions followed as the Boomer collapsed into a pile of junk. Linna flashed Sylia the `thumbs up' sign before  
running toward her.  
  
Sylia returned the signal, then opened the comm channel with Knight One. "White Saber to Knight One. The two Boomers have been disposed of. What is your situation?"  
  
"Tense," came the reply. "We've still got four active Boomers here, plus a possible hostage."  
  
"Janie VanDell?"  
  
"Could be, thought I doubt it. Either way, we're at a standoff here."  
  
"Myself, Green Saber, and our two Motoslaves can hit them from the rear. At the least, it should divide up their fire."  
  
"Sounds like a plan. Let us know when you're ready, and we'll keep them occupied."  
  
"Give us fifteen seconds."  
  
"You got it." There was silence for three seconds. "White Saber?"  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"I'm glad you and your friends could make this party. I just hope our hosts don't mind you crashing."  
  
Inside her helmet, Sylia smiled. "I hope so too."  
  
 ************  
**  
Highway 17 - 1.5 kilometers northwest of the battle  
District 6  
Saturday, December 22, 2035  
3:23am  
  
Daley jerked the car to a stop, and climbed out. _I should have stayed in bed_.  
  
Around him, ADP troopers, vehicles, and other police equipment were moving into place, forming a line of vehicles and personnel that stretched across the width of the highway. A small group of ADP troopers was placing arc lights into place to light up the entire roadway. He watched another group of flack vested troopers dash by him toward the defensive line, their faces grim. In the background, he heard explosions, gunfire, and other sounds of a firefight.  
  
 _Somebody up there hates me_ , he thought, patting his pockets for a loose cigarette, and finding none. He settled for a couple of antacid tablets, and grimaced at the chalky taste. _Just the thing to make my day complete_.  
  
Daley spotted the mobile command center near the center of the swirling chaos, and stalked over. He was dead tired, out of cigarettes, and a splitting headache. _Hurry up and get your ass back here, Leon_ , he thought sourly. _I can't take another day of this shit_.  
  
Outside the mobile command post, several ADP officers were clustered around a map laying on a folding table. They looked up as Daley approached.  
  
"What have you got?"  
  
Commander Mandy Thesan, 1st Detachment's CO, scowled at Daley. "A figging war!" she snapped.  
  
Daley glared at her. "Details, please," he said coldly, his usual carefree manner long one.  
  
"We have a battle between an unknown number of BU-55C and BU-12B Boomers," replied Commander Julian Weiss, 3th Detachment's CO. "And an unknown number of people wearing hardsuits, supported by at least three combat helicopters."  
  
"The Knight Sabers involved?"  
  
"Yes, but they arrived after the battle had started."  
  
Daley rubbed his forehead. "What's the status of our forces?"  
  
Weiss pointed to the map. "Second and Fourth Detachments have secured the highway here. We're right here, and Fifth and Sixth detachments are waiting in reserve. We've given them a kilometer buffer zone until we build up enough of a force so we can move in and secure the area. Luckily, we're in a business area, so there should be few civvies to get in the way."  
  
"What do we have in the air?"  
  
"Four patrol choppers. They're staying clear of the area."  
  
Daley nodded. "Has anyone managed to contact the chief?"  
  
Thesan scowled. "The weasel ain't answering his phone."  
  
Several more explosions interrupted the conversation. Daley looked in the direction the sounds came from, and rubbed at his eyes. _No chief, no authorization for heavy firepower. Terrific_.  
  
"What do you want us to do?" asked Weiss.  
  
Daley looked at him. "Order all units to hold position until I give the order to advance."  
  
"So what are we waiting for?" snapped Thesan.  
  
"For the battle to die down first. I'm not sending anyone into that without sufficient force of arms." Daley looked at each of the troopers standing around the table. "And we sure as hell don't have sufficient force of arms right here to take on both Boomers and people in hardsuits. In case you're wondering, that's what I'm going to tell the chief when he asks me why I didn't move in."  
  
The officers looked at him, their expressions a mix of emotions. Thesan looked disappointed, while a couple of others looked confused. But the others, including Weiss, looked relieved not to ordered to charge into a war zone.  
  
Daley closed his eyes. "Keep the buffer zone, and order the troops to fire on anyone straying into the buffer zone. We're not going to go in there after them, but we're sure as hell not going to let them expand the battlefield. Any questions?"  
  
There were none. Daley opened his eyes and said, "Get back to your units, and keep your people ready."  
  
He watched them scatter into the chaos around him before he climbed into the command vehicle. He ignored the stares of the troopers on duty, and slid into an empty chair. Twenty seconds later, he was asleep.  
  
 ************  
**  
  



	17. Chapter 17

*************************************************  
  
 **Ch apter 17  
**  
Onboard the Knight Wing  
Above Highway 17  
District 6  
Saturday, December 22, 2035  
3:25am  
  
Priss reached for her helmet with one hand, while lightly striking the intercom button with the other. "I'm ready, Mackie."  
  
The ride to the Knight Wing had been a wild one to put it mildly. She'd seen the familiar shape was it came in low and fast before sliding to an almost complete stop so the Sabers and their Motoslaves could clear the compartment by way of the ramp. As the rest of the team deployed, Priss had gunned her motorcycle's engine and accelerated toward the VTOL. Mackie had quickly swung the Knight Wing one eighty, sending dust and smoke in every direction.  
  
Priss waved to her team mates and rode the motorcycle hard. At the last second, she saw the still open ramp and adjusted her trajectory. She hit the brakes, leaving just enough speed to shoot up the ramp and into the Knight Wing. The ramp was still closing when Mackie hit the  
thrusters and sent the Knight Wing screaming into the night sky. After that, it had taken her less the two minutes secure the bike and change into her hardsuit.  
  
"Understood," replied Mackie, his voice distant as he concentrated on bringing around the Knight Wing. "ETA to landing sight, thirty seconds. I'm going to drop you off near Nene - she's under some pressure from a pair of BU-12s."  
  
"Roger that," she replied, slipping her helmet on. As soon as the suit was sealed, she continued the conversation. "What about the other aircraft?"  
  
"They're more intent on supporting their ground units right now, but I'm not going to take them for granted. Sis says their allies, but . . . "  
  
"I know. What's the ADP doing?"  
  
"Holding a perimeter around the battlefield, and not much else."  
  
"Typical," growled Priss.  
  
"I don't blame them. It's nasty down there right now."  
  
"I know - that's the way I like it." She tested the movement of the handcannon she'd equipped herself for this fight. "How long now?"  
  
"Ten seconds. The ramp at the back of the compartment began to slide open. "Nene and the Motoslaves will be on your left, at about fifty meters. Better let her know you're coming in."  
  
"Right." Priss switched over to the team's channel. "Nene, I'll be with you in about ten seconds. Are you all right?"  
  
"So far," replied the redhead. "But both Typhoons are getting pounded."  
  
"How many Boomers?"  
  
"At least two, maybe three. The Motorslave's machine cannons are almost out of ammo."  
  
"Start dropping back toward me, I'm joining you now."  
  
"Understood."  
  
With that, Priss launched herself out the hatch and into the battle.  
  
 ************  
**  
Highway 17  
District 6  
Saturday, December 22, 2035  
3:26am  
  
Greg dodged to his right to avoid another laser blast and fired his rail gun at the Boomer trying to kill him. Two of the needles ripped into the still exposed laser machine gun mounted in the arm, wrecking it. At the same time, the third needle from Greg's salvo punched through  
the Boomer's right eye and bit deep.  
  
The BU-55C, grabbing the metal spike that had damaged its vision, staggered back and away from the protection of the car door. Just then, Marcus saw his chance and opened up with his hardsuit's rotary cannon. Large craters blossomed across the Boomer's chest and arms as the Cyberdroid shuddered under the attack. Finally, the armor gave way and the Boomer exploded in a geyser of flame and sound.  
  
"Red Team, status," said Greg. He straightened, looking for the other four Boomers and the young girl that had suddenly taken off running, leaving one of their number as a rear guard. But the smoke, from many sources, shrouded the battlefield, cutting his area of view sharply.  
  
"Red Two here. I'm running out of ammo for both the cannon and railgun."  
  
"Red Three. I'm unscathed."  
  
"Red . . . Three heereeeee Bossssss . . . "  
  
"Nicky, are you all right?"  
  
"I'm fine, but that laaast shot clipped my helmet and damaged my comm equipment. Switc-cching to secondaaaaries." There was silence for two seconds, then Nicky's voice came in clear. "Any better Boss?"  
  
"Much better. Anyone got the location of those last three Boomers?"  
  
"Negative, Greg," replied Marcus. "Smoke's too thick here. Just like LA."  
  
"Defensive positions, people, while I contact the other teams." Greg switched over to the general channel. "Blue team, White team, status."  
  
"Blue Leader here." Harland sounded tired and irritated. "We've accounted for four of the eight Boomers. But two of them got past us, and I can hear sounds of a firefight behind us. The other two are playing hard to get. Three of them tried to take out Rattler Two, but Trask and  
the newbie beat them off. No serious injuries."  
  
"White Leader here. Six of eight targets down. The other two are doing the same thing as Blue team's, trying hit and run tactics. White Two has a possible broken arm, and I'm going to need some help in get this suit off at me later, but we are still intact."  
  
"Understood. Stay in place until I say otherwise. Blue Leader, can you free anyone up to see about the two that got past you?"  
  
"Not right now. Suggest you tell White Saber that her people are under attack."  
  
"Understood. Knight One out." He switched back to the team channel. "Nicky, are you tracking our late hosts?"  
  
"I got a small group of signals moving away from us at a forty-five degree angle. I've also got another small group of signals heading toward us, and we see who they are about . . . now."  
  
Two hardsuits, one white in color with gray highlights, the other lime green with red highlights, emerged from the smoke. They were followed by two tall and sinister looking mecha with color schemes that each matched one of the hardsuits. The white hardsuit looked at the four of them. "Which one of you is Knight One?" the Saber asked, using her loudspeaker so everyone could hear her. The voice was electronically disguised, but Greg could tell the voice was female, and held a ring of authority he was very familiar with.  
  
Greg raised his hand, and turned on his own loudspeaker. "Right here. Glad you could make it."  
  
"Where are the other Boomers?"  
  
"They must have sensed you coming. They popped a couple of smoke grenades and pulled back off in that direction." Greg pointed off to his right."  
  
White Saber nodded. "What about your other teams?"  
  
"We're holding our own, but a couple of BU-12's got past Blue team and I think are engaging the rest of your team."  
  
"They are."  
  
"I suppose it would be a stupid question to ask if they can handle them?"  
  
"It would be."  
  
Greg sighed. "I suggest we track down those Boomers and see if they really have Janie VanDell, or a replica."  
  
"Agreed." The Knight Saber looked up at the Rattlesnake hovering overhead. "Can we hitch a ride with you?"  
  
"You and your friend, No problem. But not your Mecha."  
  
"We can send them after the Boomers via the ground, while we drop on them from the air."  
  
"Right." _How come I feel like I've just lost control here?_ "Red Team, Form up." He switched over to the team channel. "Rattler One, this is Knight One. Requesting a dust-off for Red Team and friends."  
  
"Roger, Knight One. ETA, Fifteen seconds."  
  
  
 ************  
**  
  
Trask swung the Rattlesnake hard to the left, avoiding the stream of machine gun bullets, all the while cursing in three different languages. Leon ignored him and fired a couple of 60mm rounds at the flying BU-12. The Boomer wove out of the way of the shells, and fired its railcannon at the helicopter.  
  
Leon was slammed back into his seat as Trask twisted the chopper away from the shot. The pilot spun the chopper back around, and flew directly at the Boomer, closing the distance between them quickly. This time, the Cyberdroid stood its ground bringing its gun arm up and  
aiming it at the chopper.  
  
Leon waited until there were only fifty meters separating them from the battle Boomer before he fired the last of the HE rockets. A dozen of the missiles lit up the night sky and bore in on the Boomer.  
  
At the same instance, the BU-12 cut loose with both its railcannon and machine-gun. Several of the rockets exploded short of the mark as they intercepted the Boomer's fire, but the rest found their target. The air around the Boomer suddenly lit up in blooms of light and sound.  
  
Trask pulled the chopper hard to the left to avoid the multiple explosions. As he did so, Leon saw bits and pieces fall from the center of the blast toward the ground below. "I think we got it," he said cautiously.  
  
"I think so."  
  
"Attention All Rattlers and Knights," said a voice over Leon's earphones. "This is Nest One. We are picking up multiple targets coming out of the southwest. Preliminary ID is a dozen Boomer-sized objects. ETA is three minutes forty seconds to White Team's location."  
  
"Spoke too soon again," muttered Trask.  
  
"All Knights, this is Knight One." Mallory's voice was whip-like. "Blue Leader, can you assist White Team?"  
  
"Affirmative, Knight One. The last Boomer just went for a short trip straight down."  
  
"Hustle over to White Team's position and keep them off Red Team and the Knight Sabers with us. See if you can hook up with the other Knight Sabers near you position and bring them along. They'll be waiting for you."  
  
"Understood, Knight One. Rattler Two, you get that?"  
  
"Affirmative, Blue Leader," replied Trask dropping the helicopter toward the roadway below. "ETA is ten seconds."  
  
"No rest for the weary," said Leon, reloading his revolver.  
  
"It beats working as a wage slave," replied Trask. "Here we go."  
  
 ************  
**  
  



	18. Chapter 18

*************************************************  
  
 **Ch apter 18  
  
Gulf and Bradley - Japan Headquarters  
MegaTokyo, Japan  
Saturday, December 22, 2035  
3:26am  
  
** "How long until Charlie Team arrives?" snapped Cora, her face drawn with anticipation.  
  
"They are coming into position now."  
  
"Ma'am," called out a female tech. "Baker Team has been completely eliminated."  
  
"What's the status of Able?"  
  
"There's two left, neither in good shape."  
  
"They'll have to hold their ground then. Time to the satellite override?"  
  
"Five seconds." replied the senior tech.  
  
Cora turned to her brother and Ozu, and gave them a cold smile. "We're ready."  
  
"I should hope so," replied Carlton. "The data you wanted was very expensive to obtain."  
  
"We have control of the satellite!" shouted another of the techs.  
  
Cora turned back to the screen. "Send the activation codes!"  
  
"Codes sent." For fifteen seconds, there was silence in the control room, then the tech shouted. "Codes have been accepted!"  
  
"Upload the vector data now!"  
  
"Uploading." There was silence for another fifteen seconds, then the tech shouted again. "Data uploaded. The satellite is acknowledging new orders."  
  
"How long until the satellite is ready to fire?"  
  
"The satellite will fire the first wave in fifteen seconds, second wave ten seconds after that."  
  
"I doubt the Black Knights and Knight Sabers can survive both waves," she murmured.  
  
"As I said," replied Carlton, "dear sister, we shall see."  
  
 ************  
  
Thor Satellite 5  
560 kilometers above the Earth's surface  
Saturday, December 22, 2035  
3:26am  
  
** The satellite was one of ten that the United States of America had placed into orbit thirty years ago. Designed to drop a large number of solid metal spikes on an enemy if there is a war, the satellites were a major secret that had been quietly forgotten by most of the government. Even the current President had no knowledge of their existence. Only the military cared about them these days, and that was only so they didn't accidentally drop their cargo of one-ton spikes on an unsuspecting country.  
  
During that time, several of the satellites had been destroyed due to collisions with other satellites, or told to self destruct because their orbit had decayed to the point where they posed a threat. Of the ten that had been in orbit at the beginning of the project, there were only five left. And of the five, only Thor Satellite 5's orbit took it over the Pacific Ocean, and the countries of Japan, Korea, and the eastern part of the Russian Federation at this time.  
  
The computer, which had been a cutting edge system when it had been launched, was woefully out of date. So when the orders for a Thor strike were received by the satellite's onboard computer, the computer didn't wonder if the orders were wrong, or immoral. The activation codes matched the ones in its memory, and that was good enough for it.  
  
A short burst from several of its thrusters moved the satellite into a better orbit. Inside the satellite, the targeting computer worked out a firing pattern based on the data it had received from below, and sent the data to the computer controlling the launch tubes.  
  
The launch tube computer received the data, and sent signals to the twenty-five launch tubes that encircled the core of the satellite. Three of the tubes failed to acknowledge the signals, but the other twenty-two returned a confirmation of readiness. Now that it knew how many tubes it could count on, the targeting computer started the count down for the first wave.  
  
When the internal timer reached 0, the satellite sent the signal to launch to the first ten operational tubes. Each fifteen-meter long tube was like a single shot rail gun, powered by a series of solar collectors to keep it charged and ready. Designed to accelerate a five-meter long spike just enough to allow it to plunge into the atmosphere, the developers decided to go with redundancy rather then a single railgun with a rotating magazine.  
  
Without a sound, Thor 5 launched ten of the five-meter long solid metal spikes on their plotted course. Ten seconds later, nine more one-ton needles left the tubes and started their one way trip into the Earth's atmosphere.  
  
 ************  
  
Highway 17  
District 6  
Saturday, December 22, 2035  
3:28am  
  
** It had taken less then a minute for the Rattlesnake to land, pick up the six hardsuited figures, and lift into the air. The chopper swung around to the Northeast, lifting high into the air to clear the massive amount of smoke covering the highway.  
  
Once onboard, the Black Knight team quickly replaced their ammo clips with fresh magazines from storage compartments located just above their heads. Sylia watched them with one eye, while monitoring her hardsuit's status report with the other. _Their hardsuits are definitely advanced models. But are they Stingray-based designs, or someone else's independent work? Are they as good as our designs? Why this mix of weapons and armor?_ She closed her eyes. _There are so many questions I want to ask Knight One about those suits, and I cannot do so. But they appear to very good designs._  
  
Sylia hung onto a reinforced strap, located in the bulkhead of the chopper's passenger compartment, with one hand and watched the ground below through the open compartment door. Linna was next to her, only she was hanging onto the strap with both hands. Next to her, Knight One and the other members of Red Team held on as the chopper rocked from side to side. The compartment was crowded with six hardsuits, but they were all professionals, so there were no complaints.  
  
"Knight Wing to White Saber," said Mackie over the Saber's channel. "Come in Sis."  
  
"What is it, Mackie?"  
  
"I'm picking up another set of signals heading in your direction. They're coming out of the southwest, and they're closing fast. I think it's more Boomers."  
  
Damn! She glanced at Linna, who signaled she was listening by a single nod. "What's your location?"  
  
"Northwest of your current location, four klicks out."  
  
"Hold there until I get back to you."  
  
"Don't be too long."  
  
"I try not to be." Sylia switched back over to the channel she was sharing with Knight One. "We've got trouble."  
  
"I know," he replied grimly. "I'm sending Blue Team to assist White Team, seeing as they're coming right at White. Can you have the other Knight Sabers hook up with them, while we continue to track the Boomers and their prisoner?"  
  
Sylia nodded. She switched back over to the Saber's channel. Priss, Nene. Status?"  
  
Nene answered. "We heard Mackie, and we're clear. Priss is just finishing off the last Boomer now. But, both Motorslaves are out of ammo."  
  
 _I'll have to design a way for the Motorslaves to carry more ammo in the future_ , Sylia thought. _But I wasn't expecting a full scale war!_ "Send your two Typhoons to rendezvous with the Knight Wing. Right now, I need you and Priss to team up with one of the Black Knight teams. They should be heading toward you anytime now."  
  
"We hear them. What are we supposed to be doing with them?"  
  
"Hold off those new Boomers until we find out what the hell is going on here."  
  
Priss cut in, her breath raspy from exertion. "So, you want us to team up with people we've just met, against Boomers? When did you become so trusting?"  
  
"Be nice to our guests, Priss," Sylia said mildly. "We're allies for the time being."  
  
"Yes mommy. I promise to play nice with the new children."  
  
Sylia watched Linna shake with silent laughter. "Just don't break any of their toys. All right?"  
  
"We promise," replied Nene. "Here comes the chopper in for a landing now . . . and . . . Leon!"  
  
"Where?" asked Sylia surprised.  
  
"He's on the helicopter that . . . just touched down."  
  
"I'll kill him," muttered Priss, just loud enough to be heard. "I'll tear him from limb to limb! I'll . . . "  
  
"You can tell him how much you've missed him later," replied Sylia dryly. "Just get onboard and get ready to receive the gatecrashers. And don't let on you know Leon, all right?"  
  
"All right."  
  
Sylia switched back over to the shared channel and looked at Knight One. "My people are getting onboard the chopper now."  
  
"Good. Our pilot reports we're closing on the Boomers and their possible prisoner."  
  
"How long?"  
  
"Fifty seconds. They're staying on the roadway, which tells me there's something going on."  
  
"They're not running?"  
  
"Only in circles. Like they want to be caught . . . " There was silence for a second, then Knight One said, "I suddenly got a horrible thought."  
  
"We're on open target down here," whispered Sylia, "perfect for a orbital strike . . . "  
  
"That's the one."  
  
Sylia glanced up at the night sky. "Particle Beam Strike?"  
  
"Or something like that. We've given the other side plenty of time to pinpoint our position, and we're in the open here."  
  
"Do we abort?"  
  
Knight One shook his head. "Not until we're sure Janie VanDell is not down there." He pointed to the small group of Boomers that were now visible in the smoke below. "Better alert your people to the new possibility. That new force of Boomers probably has orders to keep us occupied until it's too late."  
  
Sylia quickly informed the others. "Mackie, Can you spot anything in the atmosphere?"  
  
"I started tracking a group of objects just before you called. Whatever they are, they're leaving a hell of an ion trail."  
  
"Anything else?"  
  
"Negative."  
  
"What could they be?" asked Linna.  
  
"A falling satellite?" replied Priss in irritation. She was still smarting at seeing Leon in the last place she'd expected.  
  
Mackie's reply was uncertain. "I don't think so."  
  
"Then what?" asked Sylia. "Any ideas, Nene?"  
  
"Maybe."  
  
"Maybe what?"  
  
"There have been rumors on the 'net for years of a space borne defense system that the USA put into orbit at the turn of the century." Nene sounded slightly frustrated as she tried to recall all the details. "I never heard any real details . . . but it's suppose to be able to drop a solid spike of metal from orbit . . . onto its target."  
  
"Great," muttered Priss. "Big iron spikes from space. Shouldn't be too hard to dodge them."  
  
"You don't understand!" snapped Nene. "If it is this defense system, those spikes are becoming red-hot right this second. After that, they'll become white-hot. By the time they hit the ground, they're molten. All that built up energy has to go somewhere. When it does hit, the spike will turn that energy into an expanding sphere of destruction that will turn the area around the impact into a firestorm."  
  
"In small words, Nene," said Linna.  
  
"Each spike will explode when it hits the ground. A LARGE explosion. Sort of like one of the USSD particle beam weapons was to fire in bursts rather then a continual beam. Understand?"  
  
"Nene," cut in Sylia quickly. "Switch over to channel Beta three, and don't use any personal names."  
  
"Right!"  
  
Sylia switched back over to the shared channel, and said, "One of my people has a theory about the incoming. Pink Saber, Go ahead and tell Knight One what you just told us."  
  
Nene briefly outlined the possibility in short, terse sentences. Knight One listened in silence, then muttered, "Damn Thor satellites. I'd thought they died long ago."  
  
"Thor?" asked Sylia  
  
"Yes, Thor," replied Knight One angrily. "A bright idea thirty years ago, but stupid by today's light."  
  
"What are we going to do about it?"  
  
"It's possible that what's coming at us is a Thor strike, just like your team mate said. Only, it's liable to be worse then she stated."  
  
"How?"  
  
"Each satellite was armed with twenty-five of these spikes, designed to be fired in two or three waves. What we're seeing is the first wave."  
  
"White Saber to Pink Saber. Can you patch into the Knight Wing's systems and get us an estimate on how long we're got before those things hit?"  
  
"Already on it, White. Knight One was right. We're picking up a second group of objects just coming into the atmosphere. ETA on the first wave is six minutes, ETA on the second wave is six minutes, thirty seconds. And I've just calculated the trajectory of those objects - and we're at ground zero."  
  
"We've got five minutes to do this," said Knight One swiftly. "That'll give us a minute to clear out."  
  
"What about the ADP?" asked Sylia. "I doubt all of those spikes are going to hit inside their containment area."  
  
"I'll contact one of our gunners - he's ADP."  
  
"Leon McNichols?"  
  
"I see you know him."  
  
"Blue and Pink Sabers IDed him when the helicopter landed. We know each other, mostly by reputation."  
  
"Then you'll agree he's the best man to tell the ADP's on the site commanders to clear out."  
  
"If they listen to him."  
  
"If my sources are correct, they'll listen to him. I'll pass the word along to him." There was silence for several seconds, then Knight One said, "He's contacting them now. Now all we have to worry about are our friends below."  
  
He waved a hand toward the open compartment door. "Ladies first?"  
  
"After you," said Sylia. "After all, you are a guest in my country."  
  
"If you insist. Our team frequency is twenty megs down from this current channel." Knight One tapped one of the other Knights on the shoulder. "Red Four will give you the frequency skipping configuration we use, so you can stay on the same page with the rest of us." With that, Knight One moved over to the opening. The Black Knight that Knight One had identified as Red Four moved to stand next to Sylia. The Knight held up a small computer pad with a series of numbers which Sylia quickly read off into her hardsuit's communication computer. After several seconds, the frequency skipping matched up, and Sylia could hear Knight One outline the plan.  
  
"Myself and Red Two first," he said, "then the Knight Sabers, then Red Three and Four. Five seconds between each pair. We have four minutes before all hell breaks loose."  
  
 ************  
  
  
** Priss dropped to the roadway, followed by Nene, and the members of Blue Team. Before them, the scene was straight out of a nightmare. The tractor trailer that had been transporting the ambush force of Boomers was a burning twisting wreck that littered the roadway. Scattered around the trailer's wreckage were the broken remains of several Boomers.  
  
A shadow stalked out of the haze, and Priss turned and aimed her handcannon at it.  
  
One of the Knights grabbed her arm and pushed it down. "That's one of ours," growled the Knight. Priss recognized the voice that had curtly introduce himself as Blue Leader in the chopper on the short trip over to this location.  
  
Priss pulled away from the Knight. "Don't ever lay a hand on me again!" she snarled. She turned and walked toward Nene, who was talking to another Black Knight.  
  
Nene looked up at Priss's approach. "Something wrong Pr . . . Blue?" she asked,remembering only at the last moment the two of them were on the same frequency as the other Knights.  
  
Priss glared at the Black Knight. "I need to talk to my team mate alone."  
  
"But Blue -" began Nene  
  
The Knight shrugged. "Don't mind me, Blue," replied a male voice. "I'm going."  
  
The Knight turned and walked over to the other members of his team. Priss watched him for several seconds. "Switch over to our own channel," she growled.  
  
Once Nene signaled she was ready, Priss said, "Don't get too friendly with these people, Nene. I don't trust them."  
  
"But Sylia said they were OK."  
  
"And how do we know it isn't a trap to lure us out here so we can be attacked?"  
  
"Because Leon's in that chopper over there," replied Nene. "He's not going to part of a trap to eliminate us."  
  
"And how do you know he's not being duped also?"  
  
"Leon's smarter then you think he is."  
  
"That's not too hard."  
  
Nene giggled, and Priss gave her a hard look, despite the fact Nene couldn't see the glare. "What's so funny?"  
  
"You. You were out looking for Leon tonight, weren't you?"  
  
Priss was taken aback by her team mate's question. "I was not!"  
  
"You happen to be traveling along the highway, kilometers from your trailer, for what then?"  
  
"I was . . . er . . . well . . . "  
  
"Uh-oh," said Nene quickly, looking over Priss's shoulder in the direction of the assembling Knights. "Better switch back to the common frequency."  
  
Priss did so, catching the last part of the Blue Leader's orders. "...take the left, while Blue Three and White Three form a reserve and jamming core with Pink Saber behind the main line. Any Questions?"  
  
Nene waved a hand. "Sir. We missed the first part of your orders because we were discussing something on our own frequency. I know where I'm suppose to be, but where is Blue Saber supposed to be?"  
  
Blue Leader strode over toward them. "Your friend is on the front line, right in the middle of the action," he growled. "The Boomers are less then thirty seconds out, and we're going to need your friend's handcannon."  
  
A roar of a helicopter from behind them interrupted the conversation. The chopper that had carried Blue Team and the two Knight Sabers was lifting off. As Priss looked at the cockpit, she saw Leon, his helmet visor pulled up to expose his face, give them a thumbs-up as the helicopter rose into the air.  
  
The three of them watched the helicopter fade into the darkness for several seconds, before Blue Leader snarled, "Enough of the sightseeing. We've got a battle to fight."  
  
"Now you're talking!" cried Priss. "Time to trash some Boomers!"  
  
With that, the three turned and ran toward the other Knights.  
  
 ************  
  
  
**  



	19. Chapter 19

*************************************************  
  
 **Ch apter 19  
  
Highway 17 - 1.5 kilometers northwest of the battle  
District 6  
Saturday, December 22, 2035  
3:29am  
  
** "Inspector Wong?"  
  
Daley mumbled something and opened his eyes slowly. His head throbbed, and his mouth was dry. "What?" he mumbled.  
  
"There's a phone call for you."  
  
Daley bleary glared at the young ADP officer. "It had better be God or someone at least as important."  
  
"It's Inspector McNichol."  
  
That cut through the fuzziness in Daley's brain. He stood up. "Give me the receiver," he snapped.  
  
A receiver was quickly thrust into his hands. "Leon?"  
  
/Daley,/ said the familiar voice. /You sound like Hell./  
  
"I fell like hell. Where the hell are you?"  
  
/No time for that,/ replied Leon quickly. /You've got to get the ADP out of the area, and now./  
  
"But Leon -"  
  
/Shut up, Daley. I don't have the time to explain fully. There are a large number of projectiles on the way down from orbit, and ground zero is right where the ADP is standing./  
  
"But -"  
  
/You have about three and half minutes before impact. Get everyone out of there, and do it now!/  
  
"Inspector Wong!" shouted one of the techs. "Radar is picking up something dropping from orbit!"  
  
Daley covered the receiver and looked at the tech. "Point of impact?"  
  
"On its current trajectory . . . " The tech's face went pale.  
  
Daley didn't wait for the rest, but tuned to the communications techs. "Flash Alert to all ADP units. All units are to retreat three kilometers from their current locations. Repeat until all units acknowledge."  
  
He returned to the phone. "We're pulling back. Where the hell are you?"  
  
He heard his partner laugh. /Right in the middle of this mess. I've got to go. Things are about to get real intense around here. Talk to you soon, Daley./ With that, the line went dead.  
  
Daley returned the receiver to its cradle, turned and left the command center. He had a retreat to supervise.  
  
 ************  
  
Highway 17  
District 6  
Saturday, December 22, 2035  
3:29am  
  
** Sylia landed next to Linna. "Green and White Sabers down," she said over the common channel. She turned to make sure their Motorslaves were right there. They were, standing a dozen meters away.  
  
Above them the helicopter pulled up and away, gaining some altitude before swinging around and hovering like a lean shark.  
  
"Red Three and Four down," said a cool feminine voice.  
  
"I've got four strong signals," said another voice, this one male. "Fifty meters away and holding steady. I think they're waiting for us."  
  
"Right," said Knight One. "Can your Mecha follow your orders OK?"  
  
"They can."  
  
"OK. Here's what we're going to do. Change partners. Red Two and Four, Rattler One, you're the backup. Red Three, Green Saber and Mecha, you're our close combat types. White Saber, you and your Mecha with me. Backup holds them in place with gunfire, leaders hit them from the  
right flank, close combat slides in from the left once targets are engaged. If you see Janie, do not become distracted - at the rate things are falling apart on this one, she could be a Boomer. Any objections?"  
  
"A concise plan," replied Sylia, looking at Knight One.  
  
"I leave exact tactics to my people," replied Knight One. "Let's move out."  
  
The three teams scattered, with Sylia, the blue motorslave and Knight One running off to the right. Linna, her motorslave, and Knight Three dashed off to the left, and the other two Knights and the chopper moving directly toward the Boomers.  
  
Because of the smoke, Sylia couldn't see much, but the readings in her helmet told her the Boomers were holding their ground near the highway's concrete guardrail. She glanced up into the night sky to see if she could see anything, but nothing looked out of place.  
  
"Three minutes, people," said Knight One. "Backup, get the Boomer's attention. Just don't hit them - that's our job."  
  
"You always get to do the fun stuff. We're on it." The sounds of rapid firing cannons added their voice to the night sounds.  
  
"White Saber," said Knight One, "that cannon your Mecha is carrying, has it still got ammo?"  
  
"It does. Enough to cover us going in."  
  
"Good. Any ideas on how to handle our friends out there?"  
  
Sylia thought for a second, then said, "You and I shield the Motorslave from the Boomer's attention. At the last minute, we jump out of the way and let the Motorslave hammer them while we come in at a high angle of attack."  
  
"Sounds good to me. Ready to attack?"  
  
Sylia felt herself respond to Knight One's challenge. "Yes."  
  
"Break to the left in five . . . four . . . three . . . two . . . one . . . now!" Both of them cut hard to the left, with Sylia's more ponderous motorslave following half a step later. According to Sylia's sensors, the Boomers were less then forty meters away, still clustered together near the guardrail.  
  
Sylia glanced over to her right to see where Knight One was. He was alongside her, with less then a meter separating them. Behind them by several more meters, the blue Motoslaves trailed along like an obedient dog.  
  
The smoke ahead of them began to thin out, and suddenly she could see the four Boomers. The Boomers themselves were standing in a tight half circle near a small pile of rubble and a half-destroyed guardrail, defiantly holding their ground. They had all lost all of their human disguises during the fight, but none of them showed signs of serious damage.  
  
The two Boomers on this side of the half circle turned toward Knight One and Sylia as they came running out of the smoke. They took several steps forward, and several sections on the chest and upper arms opened to reveal the microwave panels that made up the Boomer's heat cannon. Both mouths opened to allow the laser mounted there a clear field of fire.  
  
"I've got the one on the right," said Knight One.  
  
Sylia felt some sweat form on her forehead. "That leaves its partner for me then."  
  
"You got it, White Saber. We'll break on your call to clear the way for your mecha."  
  
"You got it."  
  
Thirty meters now separated the two hardsuited warriors from the Boomers. Both continued to run toward the Boomers at full stride, the Typhoon several short steps behind. Twenty-five meters, now, then twenty.  
  
Sylia read the heat cannon's power buildup on her helmet's readout. Those heat cannon should just about be ready to . . .  
  
"Break!" she shouted, igniting her thrusters while her hardsuit's wings snapped opened. She was several meters in the air before the heat cannon's blast blazed through where she'd been standing. She heard her Typhoon opened up with its machine cannon, but she ignored it for the time being.  
  
Instead of flying straight up, she shot off into the night sky at an angle, to avoid the searing beam of the mouth laser. She fired a series of bursts from both her own arm-mounted lasers, the bolts either striking the Boomer, of the roadway around it. There were several small explosions from the Boomer as several of the heat cannon panels were shattered by the lasers.  
  
The Boomer staggered, the armored sections sliding back into place over the smoking reamains of the heat cannon. Sylia dropped to the roadway a dozen meters away from the wounded Cyberdroid, and opened fire again with her lasers. The Boomer slipped to the right and both beams slammed into the guardrail, boring two neat holes through the hardened concrete.  
  
The Boomer responded by firing its mouth laser. Sylia threw herself forward to avoid the blast. She rolled to her feet, and charged the Boomer. The BU-55 responded by counter charging the white Saber, a thin double edge blade shooting out from its left forearm and locking in place.  
  
Sylia waited until five meters separated the two before she deployed her own laser swords. She shifted to her left, then pivoted hard to her right. The mouth laser's discharge burned through the space where her head would have been. Sylia snapped fired her lasers, her target the Boomer's left knee.  
  
One beam struck high, burning away most of the Boomer's thigh armor, but the second beam struck the knee joint dead on. It ripped through the weak armor, and melted the knee joint. Unable to support the weight, the Boomer's leg buckled, and the machine went down.  
  
Sylia leaped in to finish the Boomer off, only to jump back to avoid the wild swing of the Boomer's blade-tipped arm. She fired her lasers in burst mode again, noting that the temperature of the laser's housings was beginning to spike into the red zone. _A few more shots and the lasers will be useless!  
  
_ Her shots did affect the wounded Boomer. Most of the short-range burst had struck the Boomer in and around the head. Now, the jaw hung in ruins, the mouth laser demolished. One eye was dark and dead, the other red eye glaring balefully at her. It struggled to rise, determined to complete its programing.  
  
Sylia darted in, laser swords flashing. The first cut removed the Boomer's left arm at the elbow, She spun, and the second cut separated her opponent's head from its neck. As the Boomer's head rolled away, she slammed a spinning side kick into the now headless body. The torso crashed  
to the ground, dark fluid spattering around it.  
  
When the Boomer fell, she snapped her head around, looking for a new threat. She was in time to see Knight One deliver a final blow to his Boomer. He stabbed a thin blade through the right eye of the Boomer, twisted, and yanked the blade free. The Cyberdroid, its main CPU smashed, swayed like a drunk, then collapsed in a heap. Knight One turned, saw Sylia, and flashed her a thumbs-up signal. Sylia returned the gesture and pointed in the direction of the other two Boomers, who were now fighting Red Three and Linna.  
  
"Let's give them a hand."  
  
"Sounds good to me," Knight One replied. He looked around. "Where's you mecha?"  
  
"It was right behind . . . " Sylia stared to say, but stopped when she saw the Typhoon lying near when she had left it. Smoke rose from it, and almost all the blue paint had been charred in the heat cannon's blast. The machine cannon laid next to the motorslave, its barrel twisted and blackened.  
  
"Damn," she muttered. _Back to the design board_.  
  
"Look at the bright side," said Knight One. "Mecha can be replaced easier then people. Believe me, I know."  
  
"I know, but it doesn't make it any easier when you loose one." She turned and looked at him. "Let's get back to the business at hand."  
  
They ran toward the other combatants. Both red three and Linna were in close with their opponents, making any shooting but point blank risky. The Boomers, for some reason, had forgone their ranged weapons, and were using built in blades and brute strength to try to overpower their opponent. Both Linna and Red Three were relying on their speed and their hardsuit's weapons to stay alive.  
  
All four of the combatants showed signs of the intense fight. Even at this distance, Sylia could see the dents, scrapes, and scars from the blows that had already been traded amongst the combatants. The Boomer fighting Linna was missing most of its left arm, while Red Three's Boomer was missing most of its jaw.  
  
"Knight One to all Knights. Two Boomers are down. Status, Backup Team?"  
  
"Red Two here. Backup OK. We've got a minute, forty seconds to clear this area."  
  
"Understood. Close combat, we're coming in."  
  
"No need Knight One," replied the cool voice of Red Three. "We have the situation in hand. . . Now!"  
  
Just then, the Boomer threw a hard right at Red Three's head. The Knight stepped inside, her arms coming up to trap the Boomer's arm. Or so Sylia thought.  
  
She saw the vibroblades in each arm of Red Three's hardsuit snap into place. The Knight scissored her arms and the Boomer's twice severed arm fell to the ground. Gracefully, Red Three spun under what remain of the Boomer's arm and swung both blades into the Cyberdroid's side. A small explosion from that area of the Boomer's torso as both swords bit deep before they came free. The Knight gracefully spun again, placing herself to the right rear of the Boomer. The Boomer began to turn in the Knight's direction in a vain attempt to kill her. But the Black Knight had already dropped to one knee, and used the momentum of her spin to sever the Boomer's right leg above and below the knee.  
  
When the Boomer began to fall, Red Three agilely flowed to her feet, crossed her arms so the vibroblades were near the sides of her helmet. She suddenly snapped her arms out at the Boomer's head. The severed head beat the rest of the Boomer to the ground by a fraction of a second.  
  
Only after did the Boomer collapse did Sylia realize she'd was impressed. _Very efficient, if a trifle overdramatic for my tastes_.  
  
She glanced at Linna's continuing battle with the last Boomer. The green Knight Saber was just ducking a wild swing from the enraged Cyberdroid. Using the momentum, Linna dove between the Boomer's legs, snapping her head to the right as she did so. The ribbon cutters sliced through the BU-55's left leg with ease. Robbed of half its mobility, the Boomer fell on its face, shattering the night air with a loud crash.  
  
Linna rolled to her feet, turned, and fired her wire daggers into the back of the Boomer. The Boomer exploded as Linna sent a massive charge of electricity though her daggers into its damaged body.  
  
By the time Linna retracted the daggers back into their housings, Sylia and Knight One had reach her and Red Three.  
  
"Very nice," said Red Three to Linna.  
  
"Thank you," replied Linna. "You're not so bad yourself. You've had some experience with the sword?"  
  
"Yes, some. But I -"  
  
"You can compare fighting styles later, Red Three," said Knight One, his voice business-like. "Let's find Janie, then get the hell out of here."  
  
"We've got a minute twenty-five," said Red Two. "I'm calling in Rattler One for a pickup."  
  
"Understood, Red Two," replied Knight One. What's the status of White and Blue teams?"  
  
"Not good. They're out numbered and outgunned."  
  
"But we're never outclassed," cut in Red Four.  
  
"Can the chatter, people, and start searching."  
  
They separated, and started searching the area. Linna found the body first. "Over here," she called out.  
  
By the time the others reached Linna, she had lifted the body of a young girl clear of the small amount of rubble that the Boomers had been guarding. The girl's body was limp, her face was pale, and she was not breathing. She looked to be in her early teens, with long brown hair and pretty. The clothes she wore were torn and stained.  
  
Sylia looked at her for several seconds before she turned and walked away. _Have we, as a race, sunk so low as to use children to further our ambitions?_  
  
She only half listened to the conversations over the communication channel. "Red Four," said Knight One in a low growl. "Haul your ass over here now!"  
  
"On my way!"  
  
"We've only got a minute to get clear," said Red Two.  
  
"I know!" snapped Knight One angrily. "But I need Red Four over here right now."  
  
Sylia turned and looked at Knight One. He was looking down at the body, his fists clenched tightly. _Are you angry because quite possibly a life has been ended, or because the plans for a new piece of equipment might have been lost?_ And what made her worry was the fact she wasn't sure of the answer.  
  
Knight One's next question was like a rifle shot. "Status on White and Blue teams?"  
  
"Four of the Boomers are down, but they can't hold them much longer. They're also BU-12s, so they've got more fire power then the Bu-55's."  
  
"Understood. Where the hell's Red Four?"  
  
"Right here, Boss." Red Four shouldered his way between Red Three and Knight One. He knelt next to Linna and the body. "Starting scans now."  
  
Knight One turned to Red Three. "Go back to the landing site with Red Two. We'll be right behind you."  
  
Red Three nodded and ran off into the night. Knight One turned to look at Red Four. "Well?"  
  
"Just a minute," replied the kneeling Knight. After several seconds, he stood and looked at Linna. "You can put the body down, it's not going anywhere."  
  
"Well?" asked Knight One.  
  
"You're right Boss," he said slowly. "It's a Boomer. A BU-33S model, with no built in weapons. Looks like they reformed the features to match Janie's."  
  
Knight One slumped his shoulders in relief. "Thank you Ni . . . Red Four. Hustle back to the chopper."  
  
After Red Four ran off, Knight One turned to Sylia. "I think we'd better get the rest of our respective teams the hell out of the area before they end up like this poor creature." He looked back at the body of the disguised Boomer.  
  
Sylia glanced up at the sky. She could see the bright glow from the descending debris coming closer. "And I think we'd better hurry."  
  
 ************  
  
** Priss snapped off another shot with her handcannon at the diving Boomer. The plasma beam struck the BU-12 high in the chest and ripped into the armor. After that, the shaft of energy eliminated most of the internal components it struck, then still had enough strength to punch through the Boomer's heavy duty spine and the rear armor.  
  
The Boomer exploded thirty meters in the air, scattering a large portion of itself over a wide area. What was left fell out of the sky and shattered on the roadway fifteen meters from where Priss was standing.  
  
"Yes!" Priss growled in triumph. "Nene, are you all right?"  
  
"So far," replied the redhead. Once the battle had started, both Knight Sabers had switched back to the team frequency. Nene still monitored the shared channel, but both had agreed that there was too much risk in using it now. In the heat of combat, a shouted name might give these Black Knights a clue to their identity. And giving these people anything was the last thing Priss wanted to do.  
  
"How many are there left?" asked Priss, searching the skies for her neat target.  
  
"At least seven," replied Nene. "But they're using the surrounding buildings to mask themselves until the last minute. I'm having a hard time picking them up until they're in an attack run."  
  
"How are our guests doing?"  
  
Priss wasn't sure what to expect from these Black Knights when she'd been tagged with assisting them. At worse, she expected half-assed amateurs who would buckle under a Boomer onslaught. But the Black Knights had proved her wrong. Aided by their gunships, they had managed to hold the Boomers on their first attack, nailing at least three Boomers in the process. The one Priss just killed made it four.  
  
"No one's dead yet, but we can't hold them for much longer. Blue Three has a dislocated shoulder, and White Two can't move his right arm. They're also running low on ammo. I don't -" Nene voice suddenly changed from matter of-factly to edgy. "Priss, Blue Leader is in trouble."  
  
Priss looked the direction of where Blue Leader and Blue Two had been fighting. Twenty meters away, three of the BU-12s had closed in on the two Black Knights. Two of the Boomers were on the ground, while the third hovered ten meters in the air. One of the black and gold hardsuits was lying on the ground, unmoving. The other Black Knight was trying to fend off the two grounded BU-12s, and was being pressed hard. The closest hardsuit to the drama unfolding was hers.  
  
Damn! I can't fire at any of them at this range without risk of hitting our `ally'! "Nene," Priss said, launching herself into a sprint toward the struggling figures. "Can you target the hovering BU-12 from your position?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Then take it out while I give Blue Leader a hand."  
  
"Right!"  
  
As she ran toward the uneven contest, she saw the hovering Boomer turn and point its `Bazooka' at her. She flung herself to her right, just as it fired. The 46mm shell shot through the space Priss had just vacated and slammed into the ground, exploding ten meters behind her.  
  
Priss rolled to her feet, and continued to run toward the battle. "Sometime soon would be nice, Nene," she growled.  
  
"You know the Pulse Striker takes time to warm up!" Nine shouted back angrily. "I'm firing now."  
  
The airborne Boomer suddenly was knocked backwards by an unseen fist. It struggled to maintain its position in the air, but it began to shudder. Smoke began to leak out from around its joints, followed quickly by sparks as the burst of high frequency electrons began to destroy the Boomer's electrical system. A series of explosions ripped through the Boomer, and it dropped like a rock. When it struck the roadway, it exploded.  
  
"About time," Priss muttered. She aimed her handcannon at one of the other BU-12s, but the form of Blue Leader stepped in the way. She cursed, and activated her loudspeaker. "Blue Leader, drop on the count of three! One . . . two . . . three!"  
  
As she fired, the Black Knight dropped into a crouch. The plasma beam struck one of the Boomers in the head, swiftly decapitating it. As the dead Cyberdroid fell, Priss switched targets.  
  
However, the third Boomer was quicker then the other two. The plasma bolt missed the now moving BU-12. Before she could fire again, the Boomer fired both its bazooka and machine gun at her, forcing her to dodge to her left. She felt the shock wave hit her as the bazooka shell exploded where she'd been standing.  
  
She landed hard on her back on the roadway, and its unyielding surface stunned her. Her vision became blurry, and she felt the breath forcibly expelled from her lungs. She rolled onto her stomach, and force herself to her knees. _Get up!_ her mind screamed. _You want that homicidal toaster to kill you?  
  
_ As she staggered to her feet, she saw the Boomer tracking her, lining up a killing shot. She brought up her hand cannon, but the movement seemed too slow, too late. _Damn it! Not now!  
  
_ Suddenly, a missile shot out of the night from over her head and struck the Boomer in the right torso. A bright explosion lit up the night, forcing Priss to shield her eyes. The Boomer was thrown back, its torso ripped open. Before it could regain its balance, Priss heard a sound like a buzzsaw ripping through the air above her. A series of craters opened up in the BU-12's skin, and the Boomer's left arm and both legs suddenly fell away from the body.  
  
A large shadow suddenly flew over Priss, and she sudden realized what had saved her, or more accurately, who had saved her. _Leon! You showoff! I owe you!  
  
_ The helicopter pulled up into the night air, turned hard to the right, and raced back the way it came. As it passed her, she was certain that the gunner waved at her, though at that speed, she couldn't tell if it was Leon or not.  
  
"Priss!" called out Nene. "Are you all right?"  
  
"I am now. How are we doing?"  
  
"The surviving Boomers have pulled back, for now, but we can't withstand another attack. We've got a fifty seconds to -"  
  
"White Saber to all Knight Sabers," said Sylia's calm voice. "Our mission is completed. Mackie's coming in now. Knight One has already ordered his people out. You two stay together until the Knight Wing reaches you."  
  
"Understood," said Priss. "Nene, active your locator beacon so Mackie can home in on you."  
  
"Right. But what are you going to do?"  
  
"Blue Leader and Blue Two need help."  
  
"But Sylia said -"  
  
"Don't worry. I'll just help them to their chopper and be there in plenty of time."  
  
"Don't linger," cut in Sylia. "I want us free and clear before those things impact."  
  
"Yes Mommy," Priss replied, as she ran over to where the two Knights were.  
  
Blue Leader was kneeling over his team mate, trying to haul the unconscious Knight to his feet. He looked up as she dashed up. "Thanks for the help," he said gruffly.  
  
"No problem. How is he?"  
  
"I can't tell. He's still alive, though. I've imoblized the torso and head sections of the suit so we can move him without aggravating any spinal injuries."  
  
"Good. You get the recall signal?"  
  
"Yep. Rattler Two is setting up for a landing a hundred meters to the rear of this position. Blue Three's is already on his way over to the landing site."  
  
"Fine. I'll take one arm, you take the other. The sooner we get you back into the choppers, the sooner we get out of here."  
  
"No argument. I think we've worn out our welcome here anyway."  
  
They carried the helpless Knight toward the landing site. It was slow going as they had to skit shell craters, pieces of Boomers and small fires. Neither said anything, as both concentrated on carrying Blue Two as quickly and gently as they could.  
  
A dark shape shot over their head, slowed, and made a half turn several dozen meters in front of them. Priss recognized it as one of the Black Knight's helicopters. It hovered in the air then dropped down and landed in front of them. As they got closer, the helicopter's gunner lifted his visor, and Priss saw it was Leon. He gave the three of them a big smile and a thumbs up signal.  
  
Another Knight, his left arm hanging useless by his side, had already climbed onboard. He turned to wave the others on, when he tensed and pointed at something behind the trio. Priss saw Leon's face suddenly become grim, just before Nene yelled over the radio. "Priss, four Boomers coming up behind you!"  
  
Several objects shot out of the air behind them and struck the waiting helicopter. Explosions rocked the aircraft as the tail boom disintegrated, knocking Priss and the others to the ground.  
  
Priss struggled to her feet. _This just isn't my night, is it?_ "Are you all right?" she asked Blue Leader.  
  
"I'm getting too old for this shit," he growled, climbing to his feet. He glanced at the wreaked chopper. "Our ride has a small problem."  
  
 _Leon!_ Priss took a couple of steps forward. The tail boom was gone, but the rest of the gunship looked intact. As she watched, the cockpit canopy opened, and two figures climbed out. One waved in her direction before it and the other figure moved to rescue the injured Knight from the passenger compartment.  
  
"I've called in Rattler One and Three for an emergency pickup," said Blue Leader. "They'll be here in fifteen seconds. You better hustle to your pickup point before your ride leaves."  
  
"Here comes a bigger problem," said Priss, pointing at the four Boomers coming out of the night sky at them. "I'd better stick around for a while."  
  
"I've got two rounds left for my railgun, a laser, and a batch of melee weapons. You?"  
  
Priss held up her hand cannon. "Unlimited, as long as the power pack holds out. One or two surprises if they want to get close and personal."  
  
"Priss!" shouted Nene over the radio. "You've got twenty-five seconds to get back over here!"  
  
"I'm staying, Nene."  
  
"WHAT?"  
  
"No time to talk to talk. We've got company. Tell Sylia the get the Knight Wing clear. I'll hitch a ride with the Black Knights."  
  
"Are you insane?" Nene shouted.  
  
"Later, Nene." Priss shut off her radio, and looked at Blue Leader. "You better carry Blue Two. I'll handle the rearguard."  
  
The Black Knight nodded. "We'd better head over to Rattler Two and hook up with those guys first."  
  
"Let's do it."  
  
The Knight reached down and hauled his team mate to his feet. As fast as he could move with his burden, he started toward the wrecked helicopter. Priss fired at the attacking Boomers, forcing them to break their tight formation. As they scattered, she lined up on one of them and fired again. The Boomer exploded in midair and plummeted to the ground, and exploded again.  
  
The other Boomers started a series of erratic maneuvers designed to rob Priss of another easy shot. She took the opportunity to back up. She glanced in the Blue Leader's direction to make sure they were all right, then refocused her attention on the Boomers.  
  
One suddenly broke off and fired at her. A dozen bullets and several bazooka shells exploded in front of Priss, sending pieces of concrete and shrapnel flying through the air. She stepped back to avoid the explosion and fired her handcannon again. This time, her shot missed the twisting figure of the BU-12.  
  
Priss risked a quick look behind her to check on the progress of the others. Blue Leader and his cargo were twenty meters behind her now, moving as rapidly as they could toward the downed helicopter. The helicopter's crew had managed to haul out the third Knight from the wreckage and were carrying him clear. She saw the dark shapes of two more gunships coming out of the night sky. One was descending for a landing, while the other held its altitude to cover the first.  
  
The scream of thrusters alerted her to a new danger. Her head snapped around just in time to catch the sight of two of the Boomers descending toward her, their guns blazing.  
  
The concrete around her was racked with explosions, bits and pieces of debris slamming into her. Her hardsuit was the only thing that shielded her from the deadly hail, but it didn't completely protect her from the multiple shock waves that accompanied the hail.  
  
Buffeted on all sides by the sledgehammer like blows, Priss wasn't aware that she'd been knocked off her feet until she hit the roadway hard, face first. Her vision went dark as the HUD in her helmet died. She felt blood trickling down the right side of her face, mixing with her sweat. Her entire body was screaming in pain, and she felt numb.  
  
 _I have to get up_. Priss tried to push herself up, but pain shot through her right arm, and it buckled, dropping her onto the roadway again. The sudden fall almost caused her to lose consciousness, but she managed to hang on. _I'm not going to be beaten by a bucket of bolts. I'm going to live, Damn it!_ She managed to push herself onto her back, and push the now useless visor up so she could see what was going on around her.  
  
The area around her was pockmarked with craters and shattered concrete. Smoke and dust floated in the air, blanking the area with white tendrils. She herself was lying at the bottom of a large shallow shell crater, buried from the thighs down in concrete chunks. Around her, she could hear the muffled sounds of battle.  
  
She propped herself onto her left arm, and took a moment to look herself over. The right arm was throbbing fiercely, and a look at the handcannon told her it was done for. Her legs, while as battered as the rest of her, seemed to be intact. She moved them to dislodge some of  
the concrete, and they responded with only the mild pain of bruises.  
  
The hardsuit was going to need a lot of work, though. It looked like someone had taken a sledgehammer and pounded her hardsuit. The HUD and most of the suit's power was off line, as was the power source for the handcannon. _Pop's going to kill me_ , she thought.  
  
Suddenly, She felt and heard something heavy land near her, off to her left. She turned her head in the direction, and gritted her teeth at the sight she saw. _Boomer!_  
  
The BU-12 had landed several meters away, smoke from its thrusters swirling around it like a cape. It took several steps toward her, looking like a metal demon from a nightmare. Frozen at the sight of the Cyberdroid, part of Priss's mind noted that there seemed to be an expression of anticipation on its cold features, despite the fact this model was only remotely human.  
  
Priss's self preservation over rode her momentary surprise. She started to push herself up with her left arm, the right arm being useless. By using her legs, she managed to push herself out of the crater. The Boomer just stood and watched her attempt to escape in silence.  
  
As Priss tried to climb to her feet, the Boomer raised its weapon arm and pointed it at her. At this range, it couldn't miss, and with the condition her hardsuit was in, Priss knew the Boomer's fire would cut through her with ease.  
  
She made it to one knee, and the Boomer didn't fire. She looked at it, her anger rising. _It's playing with me!_  
  
"Get on with it!" she shouted at the Boomer, despite the fact it couldn't hear her. "Give it your best shot, you metallic moron!"  
  
A large hole suddenly appeared on the right side of the Boomer's small head, just above the insect-like eye. The left side of the Boomer's insect like head exploded, spraying pieces of microcircuits, armor, and less identifiable items across the BU-12's left shoulder, arm, and the nearby roadway. A sharp thud followed the bullet by less then a heartbeat.  
  
The morally wounded BU-12 turned in the direction the shot had come from, its mangled brain deciding the shooter was more of an immediate threat. Before it completed its turn, three more shots punched deep holes in its head, and finishing the job the first had started.  
  
Priss could only stare as the Boomer toppled over and crashed to the ground, sending up a small cloud of dust and smoke into the already hazy air. Twin explosions in the air then attracted her attention. She looked up just in time to see the last two BU-12s fall out of the sky and crashed into the pavement. She continued to stare at the fallen bodies until she felt someone beside her. _The calvary has arrived_ , she thought.  
  
She turned her head slowly and saw Leon kneeling beside her. _Oh great, Now I'm never going to hear the end of it. I think I preferred the Boomer - at least they don't try to hit on me!_ He'd removed the crash helmet, and she noticed in passing that his hair was slick with sweat. He spoke at her, but she could barely hear him. "Are you all right?" he asked.  
  
She nodded slowly, feeling her head throb as she moved it. Leon slowly assisted her to her feet. She swayed and leaned drunkenly against him, her strength flowing out of her like a broken vessel. Unconsciousness threatened to claim her again, and she rallied her remaining strength to fight off the growing darkness.  
  
Priss felt someone trying to pull her helmet off, and she weekly swatted away the attempt with her left arm. There was a roaring in her ears, growing in sound and intensity. She looked at Leon again, but her vision began to blur into vague shapes of light and color. She felt her legs give way, and only Leon kept her from falling. A yawing pit of blackness opened at her feet, and she dropped into it gratefully.  
  
 ************  
  
** Leon felt Priss suddenly go limp in his arms. The sudden dead weight caught him somewhat by surprise, but he had enough of a hold on her so she didn't fall. _Damm it!_ he thought savagely. _You would choose the wrong time to faint!  
  
_ He heard someone behind them, and he turned to face the possible threat. He snapped the Redhawk up to point at the approaching figure, then dropped his arm as he recognized the figure as Knight One. Several other Knights were right behind him, and Leon could see the large silhouette of a hovering Rattlesnake three dozen meter behind them.  
  
"What are you doing?" asked Knight One angrily.  
  
Leon waved toward the limp form of Priss. "She needed help."  
  
"We'll take care of her." Knight One looked at one of the other Knights. "How long?"  
  
"Twenty seconds to get clear of the blast zone."  
  
Knight One strode over to Leon. "I'll take her. Go with the other Knights, and get the hell onboard the chopper."  
  
"Not without her."  
  
"You can't carry her fast enough to make it in time." Knight One reached out and pulled the limp form out of Leon's arms. "Get on that chopper now," he said in a low, flat voice, "or I'll have Red Two and Three drag you onto it."  
  
Leon nodded grimly, and started running for the Rattlesnake. The other three Knights followed. Knight One looked down at the face of the women in his arms. _So young_ , he thought, _Too young to be fighting Boomers_. With that thought, he turned and starting running for the helicopter.  
  
 ************  
  
** "Priss? Come in Priss!"  
  
Nene looked up from her communications panel at Sylia. "She's not responding."  
  
"What about her location beacon?"  
  
Nene shook her head. "I can't locate it. There's too much interference out there for me to lock on it."  
  
Linna looked pale. "You don't think that maybe she's -"  
  
"Dead?" said Sylia woodenly.  
  
"She could be just injured," said Nene, a hint of desperation in her voice. "She might not be able to respond."  
  
"We have to go look for her!" exclaimed Linna.  
  
"How much time do we have left?" Sylia asked Nene.  
  
"Fifty-five seconds before impact."  
  
Sylia took a deep breath, and pushed the intercom button next to her. "Mackie, Get us out of here."  
  
Nene went pale. "Sylia!"  
  
"But Sylia...."  
  
Sylia looked at the other two members. "We can't afford to look for her," she said slowly. "If we don't get clear now, we won't be far enough away to ride out the shock waves."  
  
They felt the Knight Wing pick up speed as Mackie opened the throttles of the aircraft. Nene suddenly straightened and said, "Sylia, Knight One is trying to contact us," she said quickly. "There's a lot of interference from the spikes ion trails, and I'm having a hard time hearing him."  
  
"Put him on, and try to strengthen that signal."  
  
"Right!"  
  
There were several seconds of silence as Nene tried to counter the large amount of interference, then a voice came over the air. //Kn . . . abers,// it said, the scratching and hissing drowning out many of words. //Thi . . . Knight One.//  
  
"Can you do any better?" asked Linna, her voice weak and on the edge.  
  
"I'm sorry," said Nene. "There's too much interference for me to compensate for!"  
  
"Do the best you can, Nene," said Sylia coolly, straining to hear the words through the static.  
  
//We . . . ve your t..m mate,// the voice continued. //She' . . . l aliv . . . in . . . ious co. ition . . . t.... her with . . . to . . . immedia . . . edical att . . . We will .ontact you . . . he can be. oved. Goo . . . k, Knight .abers, Knig.. On. out.//  
  
"No good," said Nene angrily. "The interference is getting worse. I've now lost all contact with the Black Knights."  
  
"Time to impact?" asked Sylia.  
  
"Forty seconds."  
  
"We're five kilometers from ground zero," said Mackie.  
  
"Don't spare the horses, Mackie," said Sylia, part of her mind trying to work out the gaps in Knight One's message.  
  
 ************  
  
** "Thirty-five seconds to impact," said Red Four.  
  
The Rattlesnake's compartment was crowded. Besides Red Team, there was Leon, Trask, an unconscious Priss, and the injured Blue Two. Most of them were sitting in reinforced jumpseats built into the craft's bulkheads, strapped in tightly in preparation to ride out the upcoming shock wave. Priss and Blue Two were strapped into collapsible stretchers built into the rear bulkhead of the compartment. Knight One and Red Two were standing in the middle of the cabin, holding on to the thick steel pipe above their heads. There wasn't much conversation - the battle and the upcoming disaster robbing them of most of their energy.  
  
Leon sat next to Priss. Her helmet had been removed, and she looked peaceful with her hair splayed around her head. She'd been covered by a blanket, hiding most of her battered armor from sight. He reached over and touched her cheek with the back of his hand. She moaned softly, and turned her head toward the touch.  
  
Leon kept his hand there, feeling the warmth of her cheek. _I think it's time we stopped acting like children, he thought sadly, and started acting like adults_.  
  
He looked up to see Knight One looking at them. Mallory still had his visor down, and his hardsuit hid most of his body language. "How is she?" he asked.  
  
Leon shrugged. "I can't tell. She seems to be breathing all right, and her pulse is strong."  
  
"I've already radioed ahead for a trauma team to stand by," said the Knight. "She'll get the best care in the city, that I'll promise you."  
  
"Twenty-five seconds to impact," said Red Four woodenly.  
  
"Did you manage to get through to the Knight Sabers?" asked Leon.  
  
"I think so, but with the ion interference those spikes are giving off, I don't know if they heard me."  
  
"Can you track them?"  
  
Knight One shook his head. "Those spikes are going off too much interference." He turned toward the cockpit. "Distance from ground zero?"  
  
"Nine kilometers, and increasing," said a voice.  
  
The Black Knight's leader turned to face the rest of the compartment. "All Knights, double check your belts now. Everyone sound off on my call."  
  
Through a small porthole, Leon noticed the night sky behind them brightening. _Here it comes . . ._  
  
"Nicky," said Knight One. "The countdown from ten seconds."  
  
"Right." Red Four's voice was steady, despite the air of tension in the compartment. "Fifteen seconds . . . Ten . . . nine . . . eight . . . seven . . . six . . . five . . . four . . . three . . . "  
  
 ************  
  
** The first of the Thor spikes hit the roadway not far from the lead tractor trailer. Its speed at the time it struck the roadway was at least three times that of sound. It was also now in a state of plasma, white hot from its passage through the Earth's atmosphere. It screamed out of the sky and hit the roadway.  
  
The blast ripped through the hardened concrete of the roadway as if it was wet paper. Most of the area surrounding the impact ceased to exist, the power of the energy released shattering the man-made substances with ease. Farther out from the blast crater, chunks of roadway the size of a man was hurled in all directions. Other, smaller, masses were sent far off into the night sky, to land several kilometers away.  
  
The explosion lit up the night sky with a pillar of light and flame that dominated the horizon. An eye blink later, three more columns of light and flame, accompanied by the sound of a rolling thunderclap that broke windows several kilometers away, joined the first, dying pillar of destruction. More pillars of flame and fury followed, all in the small area where the battle had been fought. All vehicles, Boomers, and other signs of combat were washed away in a cleansing fire.  
  
By the time the second wave of Thor spikes hit, the fires from the first wave were reaching into the sky, as if to welcome the second wave. More pillars of fire appeared as the second wave hit, adding to the conflagration.  
  
In less then two minutes, a four-kilometer stretch of the Coastal Highway ceased to exist in any form. In its place, nearly two dozen craters laid there like open sores. Every building within one and a half kilometer's radius of the highway had been leveled with brutal efficiency. A kilometer beyond that, a large number of buildings were burning, adding to the eerie light that hung over the city.  
  
 ************  
**  



	20. Chapter 20

*************************************************  
  
 **Ch apter 20  
**  
Gulf and Bradley - Japan Headquarters  
MegaTokyo, Japan  
Saturday, December 22, 2035  
3:34am  
  
Cora gritted her teeth and clenched her fists in anger. "It cannot be!" she shouted at the screen. "They escaped!"  
  
"They did, Sister," replied Carlton slowly and soothingly. He walked up behind her, and put his hands on her shoulders. "They were more prepared then we thought. We will not make that mistake next time."  
  
"NEXT TIME?" she shouted, spinning to face her brother. Her face was a mask of rage. "I WANT THEM DEAD NOW!"  
  
Carlton felt his own anger rising, and smothered it quickly. He couldn't afford to lose his temper now. "We have nothing in position to track them," he said calmly, increasing his hold on Cora, "and they will be gone before we can send anyone."  
  
"I WANT THEM DEAD NOW!" she screamed again. "DEAD DEAD DEAD DEAD!"  
  
Carlton stepped back and slapped her hard. The crack silenced all sound and movement in the room. Cora staggered back, clutching her cheek, the rage that had been on her face now replaced by shock and hurt. "You hit me," she said in a childish voice.  
  
"Only because you were acting like a spoiled brat," Carlton replied evenly.  
  
"I'm sorry, Carlton," she replied, her voice stronger and more controlled. "I guess I lost my reason when my plan didn't work."  
  
Carlton nodded. "Your plan had merit, or I would not have allowed you to put into operation. We did not take into account several factors that we should have."  
  
She returned his nod. "Yes, the gunships were an unforeseen component. And it appeared that the ambush was spotted before it could be sprung."  
  
"Enough analysis for now," said Carlton. He turned to take in the rest of the room. "I suggest that everyone go get eight hours of sleep. We will meet at noon, to review this morning's operation."  
  
The other people in the control room nodded and shut down their consoles. They filed out of the room, leaving just Cora, Carlton, and the silent Hachio Ozu. The moon-faced security man stood in a corner of the room, and watched the siblings.  
  
Carlton ignored Ozu, and said to his sister, "You also need to get some sleep."  
  
Cora nodded. "I think I should. You too, dear brother."  
  
"I will. We'll talk about this tomorrow."  
  
Ozu watched Cora Bradley walk out of the control room, waited until the door closed, the asked his boss, "What's our next move?"  
  
Carlton didn't look at his security chief. "The first move is to make sure this incident is never traced to us."  
  
"Yes sir. Is the hardware end of the matter taken care of?"  
  
"Already done. We used several neutral satellites to link up with the Thor satellite, so tracing directly to us will be an impossible task. The other hardware will be removed from here and sent to several other GandB locations before the start of today's business. That leaves only  
the human end of the matter."  
  
"Do you want me to eliminate the techs that were in here tonight?"  
  
"No. The people tonight were chosen because of their skills and experience, and I refuse to throw away useful resources unless I have to. Besides, they know what would happen to them and their families if any of them speak out about this. But just in case, make sure they're watched  
for the next couple of weeks."  
  
Ozu nodded. "What about the person who supplied the information for the Thor satellite's codes?"  
  
"They can be eliminated, and at once. I suggest that is your first priority."  
  
"I'll send the message out tonight."  
  
"Good." Carlton turned to Ozu. "I want to see that weasel Mclaren first thing tomorrow. He's going to equip a strike force of Boomers with shield technology, and we're going after MALCORP holdings, here in the city."  
  
The security man looked unconvinced. "Is that wise?"  
  
"Are you questioning me?"  
  
"Yes, sir. In this case I am."  
  
Carlton bottled his anger before it could escape. "And I suppose you want a reason for this escalation?"  
  
Ozu shifted from foot to foot uncomfortably. "If I'm to prepare our defenses against a possible reprisal, I should know why I'm preparing."  
  
Carlton turned away. "The Black Knights and the Knight Sabers seem to have formed an alliance," he said. "It can't be that strong yet. By attacking MALCORP holdings here, I pull the Black Knights away from offensive action, and put them on the defensive. I force MALCORP and  
Greg Mallory to worry about everything else but the VanDell girl."  
  
He spun slowly to look at Ozu. "Speaking of her, I also want to see Doctor Zin-Choon first thing tomorrow morning. We may have to force the issue with the girl quicker then the good Doctor wanted to."  
  
"The Doctor won't like it."  
  
"Maybe not, but we may not have the time to be gracious with our guest."  
  
"Understood, Sir. I'll tell the Doctor myself."  
  
Carlton nodded. "Then it's time we got some sleep. Today will be an important day, and it is best we are aware when it comes upon us."  
  
 ************  
**  
Highway 17 - 4.5 kilometers northwest of the battle  
District 6  
Saturday, December 22, 2035  
3:45am  
  
Daley watched the raging firestorm with the other commanders from a safe distance. None of them spoke for several minutes, the sight before them an effective blanket on all conversation. In the distance, the wail of sirens became louder and louder, as emergency vehicles converged on the disaster area.  
  
"We lose anyone?" Daley asked quietly.  
  
Weiss replied. "No sir, our people got clear before the strike."  
  
"Good." He turned to the others. "Since we couldn't stop this, we're going to contain it. Weiss!"  
  
"Yes Sir?"  
  
"I want all the detachments to seal all roads leading into the area. Emergency vehicles ONLY are to be allowed into that area. Coordinate with the fire department, N-Police, and emergency services. Thesan, what the make up of building in the strike area?"  
  
"Warehouses, light industry, some research facilities," the woman replied. "Not much else."  
  
"Fine. Get a list of all the businesses in that area, and get hold of someone from each one of them. I want to find out if they've got any surprises we should be aware of."  
  
"Right!"  
  
The ADP officer strode away, shouting orders in a loud voice. Daley ignored her, and continued to watch the raging fire in the distance.  
  
 ************  
**  
Sylia's Apartment  
Saturday, December 22, 2035  
4:14am  
  
Sylia stood at the window and stared at the other three. Mackie and Nene were sitting close together on the couch. Nene's head was lying on Mackie's shoulder. Her eyes were closed, and her breathing deep and regular. There were undried tears on her face, and she didn't look peaceful.  
  
Mackie had a protective arm around the Nene's shoulders. He alternated looks between his sister and the sleeping Nene.  
  
Linna was curled up in a chair, both hands around a lukewarm cup of coffee. She was staring off into space, an expression of grief on her face. No one had spoken for several minutes.  
  
Finally, Mackie spoke. "We don't know she's dead. Maybe that what Knight One was telling us before communications got too bad."  
  
"And maybe Knight One was telling us she was dead," said Linna in a whisper.  
  
"We don't know that, Linna. We saw the Black Knights land near where Priss was. It's quite-"  
  
"Mackie," said Sylia softly. "Why don't you carry Nene into the spare bedroom? She's in no condition to drive home tonight."  
  
Mackie nodded, and disentangled himself from Nene's grip. He reached down and gently picked her up. She snuggled against his chest, and murmured something under her breath. Slowly and carefully, he carried Nene out of the living room.  
  
With two problems taken care of, Sylia looked at Linna. "Mackie's right. It's probable she's with the Black Knights right now."  
  
"Assuming you trust these Black Knights," replied Linna quietly.  
  
"At this time, I do." Sylia turned and looked out into the night. She could see the glow from the Thor strike in the distance.  
  
Linna put her coffee cup down on the table next to the chair, and stood. "I'm going to go home. I'm going to have to work a half day tomorrow. I'll call you when I get off work." She turned and left the room. A minute later, Sylia heard the front door close.  
  
Mackie came back into the living room. "I've got Nene tucked into the spare bed," he said. "And you look like you need some sleep yourself, Sis."  
  
She shook her head. "I'm fine."  
  
"Don't give me that," said Mackie. "You look like hell. You can't do anything until the morning anyway."  
  
"I know."  
  
"Then don't beat yourself over things you can't do anything about."  
  
Sylia gave him a weak smile. "One of the burdens of leadership, brother. You should get some sleep."  
  
"Not until you do."  
  
"And I suppose you stay there until I do go to bed, right?"  
  
"You got it. I'm not a kid anymore."  
  
"You're not, are you?" she murmured softly. She turned and looked at her brother. "All right, you win. I'll go get some sleep."  
  
Sylia walked out of the room, leaving Mackie alone. He went over to the window at stared out into the darkness. "I hope you are all right, Priss," he said quietly.  
  
 ************  
**  



	21. Chapter 21

*************************************************  
  
 **Ch apter 21  
  
Warehouse #41526584  
Yokohama District  
Saturday, December 22, 2035  
4:14am  
  
** The warehouse was a hive of activity. Before the two surviving choppers finished touching down inside the large warehouse, the retractable roof was slowly sliding back into place. As soon as the two gunships were down, the pilots cut the engines. The roar of the engines died, replaced by the shouts of the personnel.  
  
Each Rattlesnake was met by a team of medics and techs. The injured were removed to waiting stretchers. Most of the Knights got off under their own power and walked over to anxious techs, who began to unseal the hardsuits.  
  
Knight One watched the activity in silence, scanning the personnel. He saw the man he wanted, and said over the loudspeaker, "Doctor Mayer! Over here!"  
  
The doctor, a short thin man with a bulbous nose, and thinning brown hair strode over to Knight One. "What do you have?" he snapped.  
  
"Patient for you," replied the Knight, pointing a thumb at the helicopter behind him.  
  
"Who?"  
  
"One of the Knight Sabers."  
  
"What? A Knight Saber? What the hell are you doing with a Knight Saber?"  
  
"Trying to get her medical attention, if the doctor will stop asking stupid questions."  
  
"All right," muttered Mayer, "all right. How bad?"  
  
"Don't know yet."  
  
"Let me take a look at him."  
  
"It's a her."  
  
"A woman?" A look of disbelief crossed the Doctor's face. "Is this world going insane?"  
  
"It went insane a long time ago, doctor. She's inside."  
  
The doctor nodded, and climbed inside the helicopter. Thirty seconds later, he stuck his head out of the compartment. "I'll need a couple of your Knights to carry the stretcher to the first aid station."  
  
Knight One pointed to two of the other Knights who were still suited. "Nicky, Marla, carry our guest's stretcher to the first aid station."  
  
The two Knights climbed inside the helicopter, and carried out the stretcher with Priss on it. Moving quickly, but carefully, the stretcher, accompanied by Mayer, was carried away.  
  
Leon climbed out of the gunship slowly, looking weary. He waved a hand at Knight One. "Did the Doctor say anything to you about Blue Saber?" he asked slowly. "He threatened to gag me if I didn't shut up."  
  
"Doctor Mayer may have the bedside manners of Attila the Hun, but he's the best trauma doctor on the East Coast of the USA." Knight One pointed toward the First Aid area. "She's over there."  
  
"Thanks." Leon slowly walked off. Knight One watched him walked away. He turned and nodded to a waiting tech. "Let's get this hardsuit off."  
  
He had some plans to make in the next few hours.  
  
 ************  
  
Sylia's Apartment  
Saturday, December 22, 2035  
9:14am  
  
** Sylia felt a hand on her shoulder, and she half opened her eyes. Mackie was gently shaking her awake, a look of concern on his face. "A visitor for you, Sis," he said quietly.  
  
She opened her eyes completely. "Who is it?" she asked.  
  
Mackie's eyes never left her face, nor did his serious expression change when she sat up. "A Mrs. Marla Brooks-Fenton, personal assistant to Greg Mallory."  
  
"Where is she?"  
  
"I showed her out to the patio by the swimming pool. I told her you were on the phone with an important supplier overseas."  
  
Sylia climbed out of bed, and put on her bathrobe. "Did she say what she wanted?"  
  
"Nope, and I didn't ask."  
  
Sylia nodded, running her hand though her hair. "Is Nene still sleeping?"  
  
Mackie shook his head. "I drop her off at work about forty-five minutes ago. She was a bit groggy, but she'll be all right."  
  
"Fine. Give me ten minutes to get ready, then bring some tea out to the patio."  
  
"Got it, Sis." He walked to the bedroom door before he turned and looked at her again. "I thought you'd want to know. There's no news about Priss. The news services have been covering the disaster hot and heavy, but they don't know much more then we do."  
  
"Thanks, Mackie."  
  
Mackie opened the bedroom door. "I better go start on that tea, then."  
  
After her brother left, Sylia slipped into the bathroom. She quickly showered and changed, her thoughts on this person from Greg Mallory. _What does Greg want from me? And why?_ Despite her thoughts, she still managed to reach the patio before Mackie arrived with the tea.  
  
The woman was sitting at a small table on the patio, looking through a sheaf of papers. Sylia's first impression of the woman was elegance with a very solid core beneath it. The woman herself was slim and attractive, wearing a dark, severely cut business suit. She had red hair and bright green eyes, and most people would consider her strikingly attractive. She looked up at Sylia's approach.  
  
"Mrs. Marla Brooks-Fenton?" asked Sylia.  
  
She nodded and stood. "Miss Sylia Stingray, I presume?"  
  
"I am. Please, Take a seat."  
  
The two women sat. Sylia waited until Marla replaced the papers into a small briefcase. "What can I do for you, Mrs. Fenton?"  
  
"It's Brooks-Fenton, Miss Stingray."  
  
"Please, call me Sylia."  
  
The woman considered this for a second, then nodded. "Very well, Miss . . . Sylia."  
  
Mackie came out of the apartment with a tray. He placed it on the table and left. Marla watched him disappear into the penthouse before she said, "That's your brother Mackie, right?"  
  
"Yes. He's here for the holidays from Germany." Sylia picked up the tea pot. "Would you like some tea?"  
  
"Yes, please." There was no conversation while Sylia poured two cups of tea. When she was done, she leaned back in her chair and looked at Marla. "What does Greg Mallory want with me?"  
  
"Mr. Mallory wishes to invite you to lunch at Dastari's today."  
  
Sylia raised an eyebrow. "Oh? What time?"  
  
"About a quarter to twelve." Marla tilted her head. "Will that be a problem?"  
  
"No problem. Did he say what he wished to discuss?"  
  
"Not in any great detail. He did mention he was looking to expand some of MALCORP's holdings in this city."  
  
"Indeed." Sylia sipped her tea. "He could have invited me by phone."  
  
"He could have," replied Marla. "But since I was in the area anyway, on other business, He thought a personal invitation might be more appropriate."  
  
"I see." Sylia was silent for a moment, her thoughts racing. _Always the hidden motive with you, Greg. Now what?  
  
_ She looked at Marla. "You can tell Greg I'll meet him for lunch, and I'll listen to him. Beyond that, I will not commit myself."  
  
The redhead nodded and pulled out an envelope from her briefcase. "Mr. Mallory also told me to give this to you." She placed the envelope, face down, in front of Sylia. "I have no idea what is in that envelope and Mr. Mallory didn't inform me of its contents." She stood and picked up the briefcase. "I must leave now. Is there anything else you wish to know?"  
  
Sylia shook her head, her eyes never leaving the envelope. "Not at the present time."  
  
"Very well," replied Marla. "I will inform Mr. Mallory that you will join him for lunch."  
  
"Mackie will show you out. Good morning, Marla."  
  
"Good morning Mis . . . Sylia." Mackie appeared and escorted the woman back into the penthouse. Sylia picked up the envelope and looked at it. She guessed it contained a single sheet of paper. It wasn't until she turned the envelope over and read the words printed on the front did she felt a chill go through her. In neat block letters, it read KNIGHT SABERS.  
  
Sylia picked up a knife off the tea try and slit the envelope open. She slowly pulled the sheet of paper out, and unfolded it.  
  
  
Sylia,  
  
You know I've never been too subtle when it comes to speaking to you. And  
this isn't a time to be subtle. So I will say it, and hope you'll understand.  
  
I know you are the one behind the Knight Sabers. I won't go into details  
about how I know right now. All I will say at this time is that you and I are a  
lot more alike then you know. That is one of the reasons I want to talk to you  
over lunch. Another reason I need to see you concerns your father, his work, and  
the future for both of us.  
  
If that isn't enough, you should know that your teammate is alive and she is  
recovering from her injuries. She is in need of rest and healing right now. I think  
it's best that she is reunited with your team as soon as possible. She saved two of  
the Black Knights from harm last night, at a great personal danger to herself. I  
know Knight One will not forget the service she's done.  
  
Please, this is important. I promise this will not be a waste of time.  
  
  
Greg Mallory  
  
  
Mackie walked out of the penthouse. "What was that all about?" he asked.  
  
Sylia passed the note to him. He read it slowly, then looked at his sister. "How did he know?" he asked woodenly.  
  
"I'm not certain. But I need to see him."  
  
"Are you crazy, Sis? It could be a trap."  
  
Sylia shook her head and sipped her tea. "I don't think so. The Greg Mallory I know doesn't go for elaborate traps."  
  
"The Greg Mallory you know is thirteen years in the past. He could be just like Quincy, or Carson Bradley."  
  
"Nevertheless," replied Sylia, putting her teacup down, "I'm going to meet him."  
  
"Not without me, you're not."  
  
"No," she replied, standing slowly. "I want you to go over to Raven's Garage, and wait for my call. If I don't call by one o'clock, initiate the Medusa protocols."  
  
Mackie looked pale. "You're not serious!" he exclaimed.  
  
"Very much so."  
  
"But all your work on the Hardsuits, and other projects -"  
  
"Are better destroyed then in the hands of someone who will twist them to their own use."  
  
Mackie regained some of his color. He exhaled deeply "All right, Sis. What about Nene and Linna?"  
  
"Call them after you start Medusa. Tell them what's happened, and give them the option of going underground. The exact instructions are in the safe at Raven's." She walked toward the penthouse.  
  
Mackie called out after her, "Do you think he's telling the truth about Priss?"  
  
Sylia stopped and looked at him. "I believe him," she said simply, then went inside the penthouse. He didn't hear her say, "Because I have no other choice in the matter."  
  
 ************  
  
Warehouse #41526584  
District 4  
MegaTokyo, Japan  
Saturday, December 22, 2035  
9:34am  
  
** Priss slowly opened her eyes.  
  
She found herself looking up at a drop ceiling made up of white tiles. _Where am I?_ she thought. _In a hospital? That doesn't seem right_.  
  
Priss let her eyes wander around the ceiling and noted the room wasn't that large. She moved her head slowly to the right, and found herself looking at a pale yellow wall close enough to touch. Surprised, She tried to move her right arm to touch the wall, but couldn't. _Why can't I move my arm?  
  
_ She lifted her head and looked at where her body told her it was. All she could see was a lump under the green blanket, about where her stomach was. Carefully, she flipped the blanket back with her left hand, and looked at the arm. It had been strapped across her stomach, and was wrapped in a thick looking cast. _A broken arm_ , she thought. _At least, I hope that's all it is_.  
  
She pulled the blanket back into place, and laid back on the pillow. _So, I'm lying on a cot somewhere_ , she thought. _Someone has looked at my injuries, and has tried to make me comfortable._ She also realized that someone had stripped the hardsuit and innersuit off her, placed a bandage around her ribs and head, then dressed her in loose fitting robes. _How long have I been out?  
  
_ She thought back, putting together the last several minutes before she'd passed out into some sort of coherent order. She remembered the explosions that had knocked her down, the Boomer that was about to execute her, then the end of the Boomer when Leon -  
  
A soft snore from her left startled her. She looked over and was amazed to see Leon stretched out in a chair next to her cot. His eyes were closed, chin on his chest, hands interlaced across his stomach, and he was snoring softly.  
  
 _Leon's here? Then I must have been carried off by the Black Knights before the Thor Strike_. She reached out with her free arm and poked Leon in the thigh. He shifted slightly, but had no other reaction to the poke. Priss' jaw tightened, and she hit him as hard as she could across the chest. The blow wasn't as strong as she wanted, but it was enough to wake Leon up.  
  
His eyes snapped opened and he snorted. He blinked several times, then stared down at Priss. "You're awake."  
  
Priss opened her mouth to berate him for the obvious, but her throat was dry and scratchy. Instead of a finely tuned insult, all that came out was a croak.  
  
"Here," said Leon, picking up a glass off the side table next to him. "Have some water." He slipped his free hand under her shoulders, and lifted her halfway off the cot. He held the glass at her lips and gently allowed her to drink half the water.  
  
He lowered her back onto the cot, then refilled the glass from a large pitcher. He placed the glass and pitcher back on the table, then looked at her again. "How are you feeling?"  
  
"Like hell," Priss whispered. "How long have I been out?"  
  
He looked at his watch. "About five hours. It's a bit after nine o'clock in the morning."  
  
Priss struggled to rise, but Leon pushed her back down. "Oh, no you don't. You're not going anywhere. Your arm's broken, you have several cracked ribs, and you have a concussion."  
  
She scowled at him, but didn't try to sit up again. "Where am I?" she asked, her voice stronger now.  
  
Leon leaned back in his chair. "In a warehouse the Black Knights are using for their headquarters while they're in MegaTokyo."  
  
"What happened last night?"  
  
"After you fainted?"  
  
"After I passed out."  
  
Leon shrugged. "Not much to tell. Several Black Knights showed up, and bundled the both of us into the chopper fifty seconds before the area was leveled."  
  
"How bad's the damage?"  
  
He shrugged. "Don't expect to use the Coastal Highway for the next year or so. At least six kilometers of the highway, the surrounding land, and any structure within a kilometer of the area is gone. Luckily, the area around the site was businesses and warehousing, so considering the damage, the body count is on the low side."  
  
Before Leon could continue, A door on the other side of the side table opened, and a tall woman with dark hair stuck her head into the room. "Rise and Shine, Rookie!" she called out with a gleeful shout.  
  
"You're too late Jeena," said Leon, stretching. "My alarm clock beat you to it."  
  
Priss backhanded him in the stomach, but she couldn't get the power she wanted behind the blow. It bounced off his torso without any effect. Leon looked at Jeena. "See what I mean?"  
  
Jeena came into the room, and shut the door. Priss noticed the empty right sleeve, and made the connection. "You're Jeena Malso, aren't you?"  
  
"Got it in one, Kid."  
  
Priss glared at her. "I'm not a kid!" she snapped.  
  
Jeena's smile got wider. "I can see why Leon likes you."  
  
That caught Priss by surprise. She looked suspiciously at the woman. "How?"  
  
"Well, you like destroying things, you dislike authority when it gets in your way, and you're almost as stubborn as he is." She motioned toward Leon, who was in the middle of getting out of the chair, and out of Priss' reach. "I can see why you're Leon's girlfriend."  
  
"I AM NOT LEON'S GIRLFRIEND!" shouted Priss, trying to sit up, and failing miserably in the task. Before she could try again, both Leon and Jeena were there, pushing her back down onto the cot. Unable to fight off three arms, Priss settled for giving each of them a glare.  
  
"As I said, Leon," continued Jeena, looking at him. "She's the perfect girlfriend for you. She hot tempered, carries almost as much firepower as you do, and would cheerfully cut your throat if you walked out on her. I'm going to have fun watching the two of you get together."  
  
It was Leon's turn to glare at Jeena. "Has anyone told you to mind your own business?"  
  
"Not in the last ten minutes."  
  
"Are you finished running my love life?"  
  
Jeena shook her head. "Nope, Rookie. Take it from me, she's the best candidate to come down the pike in a long time."  
  
Leon sighed. "In that case, what are you doing here?"  
  
"Well, Breakfast is ready. I thought you and Little Miss Blue Saber here will want some chow. Also, The boss man has called a meeting in about an hour's time. We're included."  
  
Leon nodded. He looked at Priss. "You stay there. Knight One doesn't want the other Black Knights to see you -"  
  
"- And he doesn't want you to see the other Black Knights," finished Jeena. She walked over to the door, and opened it. "I'll leave the two of you alone - for now," she said, wagging a finger at them. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do. Later."  
  
After Jeena closed the door, Priss looked at Leon. "How many people saw me without my helmet last night?"  
  
Leon sat down on the edge of the bed. He looked at the ceiling. "Without your helmet? About half of the Knights, Knight One, myself, Jeena, and the Doctor who treated you. Most of them were busy with other things, so I don't think they'll be able to describe you clearly. How many know your name is Priss Asagiri, and you're a singer? Myself and Jeena. Even the Doctor doesn't know your name."  
  
Priss wasn't aware she was tense until she relaxed. "You don't seem to be surprise to find out I'm a Knight Saber."  
  
He looked at her, his expression unreadable. "I've known for two years about you and the Knight Sabers."  
  
"What?" she hissed, her eyes widening at the statement. "When did you find out?"  
  
"During the DD Battlemover incident. I saw your face after your helmet was damaged."  
  
There was silence for several seconds, neither one of them wanting to say the first words. Finally, Priss whispered, "You knew, and you never said anything to me about it."  
  
Leon shrugged. "It's not the type of thing you can bring up in causal conversation. And before you ask, I haven't told anyone, not even Daley. Your secret's safe with me."  
  
He hesitated for a second, and Priss could see he was struggling with something. She decided to take the lead. "Why didn't you say anything? To me, or anyone else?"  
  
"Because this city needs you and the other Knight Sabers," he said, the words tumbling out quickly. "The ADP can't handle the Boomer rampages, and it's getting worse every day. You and the other Knight Sabers are making a difference, to the ADP officers out on the street and this city's citizens. Over the years, you've saved too many people to count, including myself, Daley, and several dozen ADP officers."  
  
He reached over and placed her free hand in one of his. "I've also come to think of you as a friend. A friend I want to keep around. I didn't tell you about it because I thought you'd avoid me, or worse, never see me again."  
  
Priss looked at him, unable to believe what she just heard. Her own thoughts and feelings, held in check for so long, began a long delayed war inside her. Leon was far from being shy, but had she heard him right? A small sliver of . . . feeling breached her carefully prepared emotional defenses.  
  
"Can you sit me up?" she asked, saying the first clear thing that came into her mind. "I don't want to talk to you lying down."  
  
Leon pulled two more pillows from under the cot, and eased Priss up into a sitting position. He adjusted the new pillows, then eased her back into a reclining position. "Thanks."  
  
"No problem."  
  
She decided to change the subject before the current one went any farther. "I guess I owe you my life."  
  
"I just happened to be in the right place at the right time. Like I said, I owed you."  
  
Her eyes narrowed. "What were you doing there anyway?" she asked.  
  
He related the story of his quitting ADP, being found by Jeena, then being recruited by Gregory Mallory.  
  
"Greg Mallory," she said, interrupting his story. "A tall, lean guy, with one green blue eye and one gray eye?"  
  
"Yes. You've met him?"  
  
"Yesterday, at the garage where I get my bike worked on. His mother was an old friend of the guy who runs the garage."  
  
"What do you think of him?"  
  
"I don't know."  
  
There was silence for a minute this time. Both were lost in their own thoughts, neither looking directly at the other. Finally, Leon looked at her. "When this is all over, would you like to go out with me?"  
  
Priss returned his look, half a dozen scathing replies springing to mind, but none of them passed her lips. She shook her head slowly. "I don't think that'll be a good idea."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Because nearly everyone I get close to, dies." The sliver of feeling was growing, crashing all her other emotions.  
  
Leon nodded. "Your boyfriend in the biker gang."  
  
"There's been others," she replied, her voice choking with emotion. "I don't have many friends, and even fewer who I can call close friends."  
  
"Do you consider me a close friend?"  
  
She nodded slowly, tears forming in her eyes. "Yes I do, dammit! One I don't want to loose!" She suddenly launched herself at him, wrapping her free arm around his neck before he could move. "Hold me," she said in a small voice.  
  
Carefully, he held her. He stroked her hair with gentle strokes, listening to her sobbing softly. Now what? he thought. He hadn't expected this reaction from her. _Nearly getting killed last night took more out of her then I thought. I never seen her like this before. Better take it easy_.  
  
That got harder to do as he felt her lips on his neck. She stopped sobbing, and pressed herself against him. He disentangled himself from her hold, and gently pushed her away. He looked at her, and winced at the hurt look on her face.  
  
"Is something wrong?" she asked in a small voice.  
  
He nodded. "I don't want you to do something you might regret later. You're tired, injured, and you aren't yourself right now. I think too much of you to risk throwing it away on a moment's whim."  
  
She chuckled softly, wiped the tears from her eyes, and laid back. "I don't believe it," she said, with a small smile. "The great Leon, afraid of me. You've spent the last three years chasing me, and when I finally throw myself into your arms, you back off."  
  
He sighed. "I love you too much to ever risk hurting you. If I allowed you to continue, and you decided later you'd made a mistake, I'm not sure I could live with myself."  
  
"Wait a minute." She looked at him, his words slowing sinking in. "Did you say you love me?"  
  
"I did."  
  
Priss looked at him carefully, watching for any hints he was joking. She didn't see any. "You're serious," she said finally. "You're downright, goddamn serious, aren't you?"  
  
"I am." He stood slowly, his expression unreadable. "I think you should get some sleep now. Or would you want to have breakfast first?"  
  
"Wait a minute!" she yelled angrily, making a grab for his arm. She missed. "I spent half the damn night out looking for you! If you think I'm going to let you walk out of here, after you told me you loved me, you've got another thing coming!"  
  
"I think I should warn you," said Leon quietly, "before you continue your tirade. These walls aren't that thick, and I suspect everyone within ten meters of the door just heard you."  
  
Priss rolled off a long stream of curses that were just as loud. After ten seconds, the door opened and Jeena stuck her head into the room. "Interesting vocabulary," she remarked dryly, interrupting Priss in mid-curse. "There's a dozen people out here taking notes on the structure and content. Which might be fine at any other time, but Mr. Mallory wants to talk to you for a minute, quietly. Can you spare the time?"  
  
Before Priss could reply, Greg Mallory stepped past her into the room. "Stay outside Jeena, and make sure everyone stays away from the room while we're discussing things. Get Nicky to help you."  
  
Jeena nodded and left the room, closing the door behind her. Mallory looked relaxed in a dark, well-tailored suit. "Besides your excellent voice, Miss Asagiri, how are you feeling?"  
  
"I hurt like -" she began, but then realized what he had said. "Wait a minute! How do you know my name?"  
  
Mallory held up a hand. "Before you go jumping all over Mr. McNichol here, he told me nothing about you." He stepped forward, pulled out the chair Leon had been sitting on, reversed it, straddled the seat, and leaned forward on the back of the chair. Leon sat on the end of the bed, and watched.  
  
Priss glared at Mallory while they both made themselves comfortable. "Then who did?" she finally snarled.  
  
"Would you believe Pops?"  
  
Priss tried to outstare Mallory, but didn't succeed. "Pops wouldn't say anything," she said finally.  
  
Mallory shrugged. "Pops didn't say anything of a sensitive nature, but I'm somewhat nosy. After you left the garage, he and I caught up on some old times. In passing, I asked him who you were and he mention your name."  
  
"I see."  
  
"So, out of simple curiosity, I asked several of my people to check you out. One of my people recognized it as belonging to the Queen of the underground music scene here in Tokyo." He saw the expression on her face. "I did this all before last night's fun and games, and I doubt anyone got a real good look at you since then."  
  
He gave Priss a small smile. "You have a loyal following out there in the world. It's a pity no recording label has snatched you up yet."  
  
"They won't touch me," Priss muttered in a low voice, her eyes never leaving Mallory's mismatched eyes. "GENOM has seen to that."  
  
"Figures. GENOM has always had a thin skin on some subjects. Unfortunately, MALCORP doesn't own a recording company, or I'd sign you myself."  
  
"Don't try to humor me," said Priss, "or ever worse, try to patronize me."  
  
"I wouldn't dare," replied Mallory in a flat, cold voice that suddenly reminded Priss of Sylia. His voice lightened again, as if nothing had happened. "The question that I want to talk to you about is what are we going to do with you?"  
  
"You could let me just walk out of here."  
  
"In your condition?" asked Mallory. "Doctor Mayer would have a fit."  
  
"Screw the doctor," growled Priss angrily. "I'm not going to stay here any longer then I have to."  
  
Mallory nodded. "Stubborn, aren't you?"  
  
"Arrogant, aren't you?"  
  
Mallory didn't rise to the bait this time. "I don't think you'll be here too much longer. I've already arranged a meeting with the person behind the Knight Sabers. I suspect you'll be out of here before nightfall." He stood. "Until then, I suggest you get some rest - when things are arranged, I'll have Leon drive you to your comrades. Fair enough?"  
  
Priss blinked twice. "The person behind the Knight Sabers?" she asked woodenly, her mind racing.  
  
Mallory looked at Leon. "Why don't you get Priss some breakfast? She looks like she needs something to eat."  
  
Leon, looking disappointed, nodded slowly, and left the room. Mallory waited until he closed the door before he began to speak again. "Don't bother denying that Sylia Stingray is the one behind the Knight Sabers."  
  
Priss said nothing, and Mallory smiled. "You didn't give anything away. I came to MegaToyko almost sure that Sylia was behind the Knight Sabers, and after last night, I knew she was the one."  
  
"You seem to know a hell of a lot."  
  
"I have to in my position." He stood and walked over to the door. Just before he touched the door handle, he looked at her. "You don't like me, do you?"  
  
"I don't."  
  
"I'm not your enemy, nor are the Black Knights."  
  
"No, you're here after a fourteen-year-old girl who happens to have information that you want."  
  
Priss saw Mallory's hands ball up into fists. She waited for him to explode into anger, but it never came. "That girl," he said slowly, "is my goddaughter. I don't give a damn about what she knows. I want her home, nothing more. If you can't understand that, then I pity you." With that, he walked out of the room, leaving Priss alone in her thoughts.  
  
 ************  
  
  
**  



	22. Chapter 22

*************************************************  
  
 **Ch apter 22  
**  
GENOM Tower  
MegaTokyo, Japan  
Saturday, December 22, 2035  
9:56am  
  
Quincy watched Faust through half closed eyes. "Your report?"  
  
There were only three men in Quincy's office. Quincy sat behind his desk, his face an unreadable mask. Faust was looking worn and tired from the frantic mission he had received yesterday. Tarson, another of Quincy's new special assistants, watched quietly with a poker face.  
  
Faust glanced down at the papers in front of him, then looked at Quincy. "It is as you thought, Sir. The bottom line is that GENOM cannot account for somewhere between a hundred seventy-two and two hundred five Boomers over a period of three years. Would you care for a breakdown as to type?"  
  
"I do not care at this moment. Is there a pattern involving how and where the Boomers are lost?"  
  
"No Sir. The missing Boomers are from all over the world, in a variety of methods. I have several of my people looking for a possible connection involving one of the other Megacorps, but nothing yet."  
  
The third man in the room glared at Faust. "Grasping at straws, Faust?"  
  
"Mr. Tarson," said Quincy, allowing steel to creep into his voice. "Refrain from cheap shots. It will not help the current situation any."  
  
"I'm sorry, Sir."  
  
"Continue, Mr. Faust."  
  
Faust readjusted his glasses. "Most of those we cannot account for disappeared during disasters such as explosions, building collapses, and transport crashes. Also, there has been a slightly higher then expected number of missing Combat Boomers from the combat zones."  
  
"I see." Quincy was silent for a minute. "Thank you, Mr. Faust. You have done excellent work."  
  
"Thank you, Sir. Do you wish for me to continue investigating the matter?"  
  
Quincy was silent for a minute, then stared at Faust. "I do. Coordinate with Miss Madigan and her security people on this. I want whoever is behind this rooted out as soon as possible. You will work with a small staff full time on this matter, and refer all inquiries to this office. You have a top priority clearance on this - but make no move to shut down the people behind this until I give you the word. Is that clear?"  
  
"Understood, Sir." Faust left a question hanging.  
  
Quincy nodded. Faust would never ask, but it needed to be answered. He said, "I want the entire operation in one fell swoop, Mr. Faust. I want to leave no one who was involved in this disgrace behind when their leaders are rounded up."  
  
Faust nodded. "I'll start on that right away, sir."  
  
Quincy looked at Tarson. "Have the police discovered what exactly happened on the Coastal highway last night?"  
  
Tarson shook his head. "There were Boomers involved, but according to our sources inside the ADP, the Thor strike left very little in the way of salvage. The few useful pieces that were recovered are already in our possession. As soon as we have enough data, I will forward it to Mr. Faust and his team for their analysis."  
  
What is the estimated cost of this incident to GENOM?"  
  
"We were fortunate in that we have very few operations in that area of the city. One of our bioresearch labs was damaged, but our people report the damage was minimal, and repairs will be completed in a couple of days."  
  
"What about the reports that the Knight Sabers and another group in hardsuits were at that location?"  
  
"It looks like both groups were involved in the incident, but their exact role is unknown at this time."  
  
"I can guess their role," replied Quincy slowly. "The unseen enemy who took Janie VanDell set a trap, and both the Knight Sabers and the Black Knights set it off."  
  
Both Faust and Tarson look at their boss in surprise. "The Black Knights?" asked Tarson. "Here?"  
  
Quincy waved a hand. "It's not hard to deduce the identity of the other team. Our people in the United States have tried several times to hire them, without success."  
  
"Who are they working for?" asked Tarson.  
  
"MALCORP," replied Faust. "The Black Knights have a long history with them."  
  
Quincy nodded. "I think it is time that I meet the new CEO of MALCORP. Extend an invitation to Mr. Mallory for dinner tonight."  
  
"And if he refuses?"  
  
"He won't. I think he will want to meet me as much as I want to meet him."  
  
Faust made a note. "Anything else, Sir?"  
  
"The investigation will start now, Mr. Faust. I want your team at work before noon. Mr. Tarson, you will assist Mr. Faust any way you can. You two can go now."  
  
 ************  
**  
Warehouse #41526584  
District 4  
MegaTokyo, Japan  
Saturday, December 22, 2035  
10:14am  
  
Gregory Mallory looked at the people sitting around the table. All the Knights but Marla were there, even the ones who had been injured in the fight last night. Marcus Jackson, Nicky Yashida, Harland Grace and one of Harland's team sat on the one side of the table. All of White Team and the other member of Blue Team were on the other side. Leon and Jeena sat at the far end of the table, with Doctor Mayer standing behind them. Most of them had cups of coffee or other  
hot drinks in front of them, along with the remains of a hasty breakfast. None of the Knights smoked, so the air was clear of tobacco.  
  
"Listen up, Knights," said Mallory, and waited for the muted conversation to die away before he continued. "We should have done this morning, but I doubt any of us were in any shape for a debrief then. I don't have a lot of time, so I'll keep this meeting short."  
  
"Good," muttered Kelly Hollis, Blue Team's number two. "I have a splitting headache."  
  
"At least you still have a head," replied Harland gruffly. "You came close to losing it last night."  
  
"Don't remind me."  
  
"That's a good place to start," said Mallory. He looked up at Doctor Mayer. "What's the latest on the injury list?"  
  
Mayer looked peeved. "Hollis has a mild concussion, nothing that a couple of days of strict bed rest won't solve. McLendon there," he motioned toward Blue Three, who had his right arm bound tightly across his chest, "has a second degree shoulder separation, and a concussion. And Dawes has a compound fracture of the ulna bone. Most everyone else has the large collection of bruises and cuts I've ever seen outside of an emergency room."  
  
"So, what's the verdict, Doc?" asked De La Cruz lightly. "Are we going to live?"  
  
"For the next ten minutes," replied Mayer blandly. "After that, I won't make any guarantees."  
  
"What about our guest?" asked Mary Pierce, the Leader of White Team. "What's her condition?"  
  
De La Cruz leaned back in his chair and smiled. "She's strong enough to curse at our new friend over there, that much I do know."  
  
"You and everyone who's spent any time within ten meters of that door in the last half hour knew that," replied Grace evenly.  
  
"She's got an arm broken, several cracked ribs, and a concussion," said Mayer, a look of distaste crossing his features. "Not to mention being as stubborn as a Missouri Mule."  
  
"She'll live," remarked Mallory dryly. "And before anyone asks what we're going to do with her, I'm already taking steps to get her back to the Knight Sabers. It the least we can do for her."  
  
"What's the condition of the Hardsuits?" asked Grace.  
  
"Seven of them are on-line," replied Nicky. "The other two are undergoing repair, and should be ready before nightfall."  
  
"Good," said Mallory. "How about the helicopters?"  
  
"Battered but still usable. They both should be ready about the same time as the hardsuits."  
  
Mallory nodded. "Mr. McNichols picked up some information last night on who's behind Janie VanDell's kidnaping. Leon?"  
  
Leon stood slowly and looked around the room. Everyone at the table was watching him, their expressions hovering between curiosity and mild interest. He knew word had gotten around about his actions the night before, and because of that, most of them were ready to accept him as a member of the team. Not that different from the ADP, he thought to himself.  
  
He took a deep breath and said, "One of my informers told me that Gulf and Bradley Japan brought in a Doctor Yin Zin-Choon late last week. He's a specialist in informational retrieval."  
  
"Who's running Gulf and Bradley Japan?" asked De La Cruz.  
  
"You're going to love this, Knights." Mallory's smile held no warmth. "Carlton Bradley."  
  
"Shit," muttered Grace. "Don't tell me Cora's here too."  
  
"She is."  
  
There were muted conversations among the Knights as the news was digested. Leon, his face puzzled, asked, "I don't understand. What's with Carlton and Cora Bradley?"  
  
Mallory looked at him. "I take it you've never met them?"  
  
"All I know about them is what my source said - they're not people to mess around with."  
  
"To put it mildly," said Jeena. "It's safer playing with a lit stick of dynamite then to cross those two."  
  
"Jeena's right," said Mallory. "Carlton and Cora Bradley are the only legitimate heirs of Carson Bradley, former CEO of Gulf and Bradley."  
  
Leon frowned. "Wasn't he the one that died a couple of years ago in the US? In some type of terrorist attack?"  
  
Mallory nodded. "Killed literary minutes after Gulf and Bradley signed that deal with GENOM to co-produce a Boomer Giant."  
  
"That was a joyful day," said Dawes in a low voice. "I didn't shed a single tear when I heard the news."  
  
"Mr. McNichols, you have to forgive my people's lack of surprise at hearing that the Bradley twins are involved in this," said Mallory to Leon. "We've had some run-ins with Gulf and Bradley in the past."  
  
"What's the deal with them?" asked Leon.  
  
"Carson was a bastard," replied Mallory. "But he was a stable bastard. You knew which way he'd react to a given situation. Neither Carlton nor Cora inherited the stability, so there's no way of knowing how those two would react."  
  
"Cora's a psychopath," said Jeena. "The type that would pull wings off of flies for the sheer pleasure of it."  
  
"Carlton's not much better," said Grace, staring down into his coffee cup.  
  
"But they've never cross over the line this seriously before," said Mallory. "As far as we knew."  
  
"Aren't we making an assumption here?" asked Leon. "We don't know that Gulf and Bradley is behind this."  
  
"We have to start somewhere," replied Mallory. "However, I doubt Gulf and Bradley, on the whole, is behind this. Jansen Bradley's ruthless, but not stupid. If Gulf and Bradley is involved, it's confined to the Japan branch."  
  
He looked at Nicky. "Start digging into Gulf and Bradley system ASAP. I want a list of properties that they might be using."  
  
Nicky stood. "On it, Boss." He walked away briskly.  
  
"Harland, I want you and a team of Jeena's people to start shadowing Carlton and Cora. Keep the tail loose - I don't want them to know we're watching them."  
  
Grace grimaced. "Round the clock?"  
  
"Yes." Mallory looked up at Jeena. "Who's your opposite number at Gulf and Bradley Japan?"  
  
"Hachio Ozu. If the Bradley twins are involved, then so is he."  
  
"We'll include him in the surveillance."  
  
"We're going to be stretched thin," said Jackson slowly.  
  
"Can't be helped. This is the closest thing we've had to a lead since we got here. I want this confirmed or denied as quickly as possible."  
  
Mallory glanced down at his watch. "I've got a meeting in about an hour with someone from the Knight Sabers. If things go well, we'll have Blue Saber out of here before the afternoon."  
  
"You have been busy, haven't you?" asked Grace. "How much sleep did you get last night?"  
  
"Five minutes less then you did," replied Mallory, stretching slowly. "That's it for now, people. Let's get this show on the road."  
  
 ************  
**  
Gulf and Bradley Research lab G-46  
MegaTokyo, Japan  
Saturday, December 22, 2035  
10:37am  
  
Mclaren stalked down the hallway, trailed by two of his assistants. He kept the scowl on his face to hide the uneasiness he felt. _What in hell is Bradley doing here?_  
  
He'd gotten the call from Ozu ten minutes ago, too late to be ready for the visit, but early enough to allow doubt and some fear prey on his mind. It was Bradley's way of reminding Mclaren who was in control here and the scientist hated it.  
  
He turned the corner and saw two large men flanking the door to his lab. He recognized them as two of Bradley's bodyguards Boomers, he thought, Probably BU-55Cs. _Another reminder of who's in charge here_.  
  
The Boomers watched Mclaren march toward the lab doors in silence, their faces impassive. Mclaren glared at them, but didn't slow. _I won't be humiliated by a pair of scrap pile rejects!_  
  
The Boomer on the right stepped in front of Mclaren. Forced by the sudden movement, the scientist halted in his tracks. "Yes?" he snapped.  
  
"Mr. Bradley wants to speak to you only," the Boomer said in a cold, flat voice. "Your assistants will wait here for your return. Those are Mr. Bradley's orders."  
  
"Very well," said Mclaren, his own voice hard and tinged with anger. Another one of his foolish stunts. "I'll play along with his damm game. Miles, Hal, wait here while I see what our 'Lord and Master' wants."  
  
Without waiting for a reply, Mclaren stalked into his lab. At the last second, the Boomer moved aside, allowing the scientist to walk through the lab doors unopposed.  
  
Bradley was standing in the middle of the lab, Ozu and two more Boomer bodyguards standing several meters away. As always, Bradley was dressed in an expensive suit, dark gray today, and looked freshly groomed. He looked up and smiled at Mclaren. "Ah, Doctor, there you are."  
  
"Cut the pleasantries," snapped Mclaren. "Why the visit?"  
  
Bradley snapped his fingers, and Ozu stepped forward and handed Mclaren a computer disk. "The disk holds some modification I want made to the shield generator design. I want it done as soon as possible."  
  
Mclaren took the disk, his eyes never leaving Bradley's. "What else?"  
  
"I want at least a dozen Boomers ready to move out twelve hours from now. I also want them equipped with the new shield generators."  
  
"Are you serious?" shouted Mclaren in anger, taking a step toward Bradley. Ozu and the two Boomers moved to intercept him, but Bradley waved them off. "You want me to drop everything else so you'll have more toys to play with?"  
  
Bradley's smile faded. "You will do it, or you'll wish you were back in prison."  
  
"What you're asking for is impossible!" continued Mclaren. He held up the disk. "These changes are going to take several hours to make by themselves, assuming they are doable! And do you know how long it takes to bring a deactivated Boomer on-line?"  
  
"I did not come here for excuses, Doctor."  
  
"Then you're a bigger fool then I thought you were!"  
  
A cellular phone rang, disturbing the sudden silence. Ozu pulled a phone out of his pocket and answered it.  
  
Bradley's eyes narrowed, and Mclaren knew he'd gone too far. He would have never confronted Carson Bradley this way, when the man was alive. But his time in prison had taught him something about fights - don't let the other guy know you were scared, no matter how scared you were. And it would be a cold day in hell before he'd give Bradley the satisfaction of seeing the fear hefelt. He had to stand his ground now.  
  
"Would you like me to have my bodyguards break both your arms?" asked Bradley in a quiet voice. Mclaren saw Bradley's calm exterior crack, letting part of his tightly controlled anger surface.  
  
"Then who in hell would supervise this job of yours?" shouted back Mclaren. "If any of these other clowns in this lab knew as much as I did, you wouldn't have broken me out of jail!"  
  
Ozu stepped forward. "Mr. Bradley, you sister wishes to speak to you. She said it's important, and it concerns the VanDell matter."  
  
Bradley grabbed the phone out of his security chief's hand, and spoke into it. "Yes?" he growled. "What?...Are you sure?... How in hell did it happen?....Find out! We need to know! What's her condition?....What's does Doctor Kyso say?...Damm it, Cora! That girl can't die now!"  
  
Mclaren prudently stepped back, out of Bradley's reach. Bradley ignored him and started pacing, his voice hard and sharp. "Seal the building, I don't want anyone in or out until I get there. I also want everyone who was on the security detail when this happened in my office before I get there . . . No! I will do the questioning!. . .I don't care! It's my responsibility, not yours ...I'm on my way. Good-bye."  
  
He returned the phone to his security chief, then glared at Mclaren. He was trying to hide his anger, but he wasn't doing a good job of it. "You have twelve hours," he said in a hard voice, "from this minute, to complete the task I have set for you. If you do not, I will kill you myself. Is that clear?"  
  
"Yes!" snapped Mclaren angrily. Unlike Bradley, the scientist did nothing to hide his anger. "I'll have to pull several techs off other projects, but you'll have your damn dozen Boomers in time."  
  
"Good." Bradley strode out of the lab, followed by Ozu and the two bodyguards. Mclaren watched them leave, then picked up the phone and started dialing. He had a job to do, and no time for pleasantries....  
  
 ************  
**  
  



	23. Chapter 23

*************************************************  
  
 **Ch apter 23  
  
AD Police Headquarters  
Saturday, December 22, 2035  
11:09am  
  
** Nene stopped and stared at the small plaques next to the door. It still said **COMPUTER SECURITY OFFICE** , but under it, there were two more plaques, smaller in size and lettering, but still readable. The first one said, **COMPUTER SECURITY OFFICER - SERGEANT NENE ROMANOVA**. The one below that said, **ASSISTANT COMPUTER SECURITY OFFICER - CORPORAL ALAN TREMOLINI**.  
  
She didn't know how long she stood staring at it before Alan stuck his head out of the office and asked, "Like it?"  
  
She looked at him, feeling a little stunned. "Sorry?" she said. It had taken her a bit over two hours to fill out the paperwork for her promotion, followed by a short meeting with Lieutenant Asaikeda, head of ADP's Computer Support Office, and her new boss. She wasn't sure  
how she managed to get through both the paperwork and Asaikeda's speech without falling asleep.  
  
If she had been given a choice, she would have called out sick, but Mackie had forcibly vetoed the idea once they got into the car. "It wouldn't look good if you called out sick on you first day at your new job," he'd told her. When she'd objected, he'd replied, "I'm sorry, but  
you'll have to act like nothing's happened."  
  
"But Priss is dead!" she'd yelled at him, trying hard not to cry.  
  
"We don't know that," replied Mackie quickly. "In fact, I think she's alive."  
  
"What?"  
  
"After you went to bed, I ran the last transmissions we got from Knight One through the computer trying to piece together what he said. I'm not one hundred percent sure, but I think the Black Knights hustled out an injured Priss before the Thor Strike."  
  
Nene didn't remember the trip to ADP Headquarters. She was tired, still a bit sore from the fight on the highway, and worried about Priss. Priss could be a pain in the neck sometimes, but she was a team mate. How could Sylia just take off and leave Priss behind?  
  
"The plaques. I had them made up last night."  
  
"Oh." _Get in gear, girl!_ "They're nice, real nice."  
  
"You don't sound happy."  
  
"Er . . . well . . . I didn't get a real good night sleep, and . . . I . . . er -"  
  
Alan held up a hand. "I'll get some coffee. You look like you need it."  
  
"Thanks, Alan. I could use a cup."  
  
"One cup of coffee coming up." He came out of the office, and walked past her. "I suggest the first thing you ask supply for is a coffee maker - you're going to need it."  
  
"ME?" Nene squeaked. "What about you?"  
  
He smiled. "I'm a confirmed tea drinker. I hate coffee."  
  
"Oh. Where are you going?"  
  
"The cafeteria - they have the closest thing to coffee in this building."  
  
"I'll get set up, and after you get back, you can start getting me up to speed on the security system."  
  
"You got it, Boss. Back in five."  
  
Nene watched him walk out of sight before she ducked into the office. She sat at her desk, and worked frantically to check the hospital and morgue records over the last eight hours for anyone matching the description of Priss. She leaned back in her chair and waited for a match.  
She exhaled slowly when the screen flashed " **NO MATCH FOUND** ".  
  
 _Well, she isn't in a hospital, or the morgue - at least not yet. Of course, if she was still there when the Thor strike hit . . ._ . She cleared her mind of that thought and checked police reports for the same period, again with no match. Disappointed, she eliminated all evidence of her search from the computer system. She switched back over to the security system ten seconds before Alan walked back in the door with a cup of coffee.  
  
He placed the coffee next to Nene and said, "OK, Boss. Where do you want to start?"  
  
She looked up at him. "A general overview, followed by planning a threat assessment for the system. How long do you think it'll take to complete a threat assessment?"  
  
"A week, week and a half."  
  
"Too long. Let's see if we can a preliminary threat assessment done by the end of the shift tomorrow. We can start a full assessment the day after Christmas. Fair enough?"  
  
"Sounds like a plan." Alan went to his cubicle, and came back with his office chair. He sat. "All right. Let's start with the basics of the ADP computer security plan . . . "  
  
 ************  
  
Dastari's Restaurant  
Tinsel City  
Saturday, December 22, 2035  
11:35am  
  
** Sylia waited until the elevator doors opened completely before she stepped out into the foyer. The foyer was elegant, letting the customer know that the restaurant they were about to enter was far and above the normal dining experience. _Just the type of place Greg would want  
us to meet_.  
  
She had chosen to wear a dark and severely cut business suit for this meeting. Looking at her hands, she saw they were steady, which surprised her. She wasn't sure what to expect from someone she hadn't seen in fifteen years, but she wasn't going to act as she did when she was  
thirteen. _Find out what he wants first, then react_ , she thought. _Don't worry about anything until then_.  
  
She approached the doorman, who bowed and opened the door for her. Once inside, the matre'd strode smoothly up to her, and bowed. "Yes Madam?"  
  
"I have an appointment with a Mister Gregory Mallory," said Sylia calmly. "For eleven-thirty."  
  
The matre'd's eyebrows' rose slightly, but he nodded. "Miss Sylia Stingray?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Mr. Mallory and his party arrived ten minutes ago, Madam." He turned away. "If you will follow me, please."  
  
There were only a few tables occupied this early in the day, mostly executives having a late breakfast, or an early lunch. The layout of the restaurant gave every table a spectacular view of the surrounding city, but the most highly sort after tables were the ones nearest the windows.  
  
It was one of these tables the matre'd led her to. A tall and lean man sat there, drinking tea. He was almost handsome, with dark hair cut short and combed away from his face. He looked up as Sylia and the head waiter approached, and Sylia saw his eyes - one was green blue in  
color, the other steel gray - light up with pleasure.  
  
He waited until Sylia was seated before he motioned to a teapot. "Care for some tea?"  
  
She nodded, not trusting herself to speak yet. He carefully poured her a cup and handed it to her. "I'm glad you came, Sylia," he said cautiously.  
  
"It has been a long time, Greg."  
  
"I know. Don't worry about anyone listening to us." He tapped a finger on a small flat device sitting on the table next to him. "This will keep our conversation to just between you and me."  
  
"It must be important."  
  
"It is." He stared out the window. "It's change a lot in twelve years, hasn't it?"  
  
"It has. The earthquake started it all."  
  
"And GENOM continues it. Creating MegaTokyo in its own image." There was a tone of anger in his voice, one that Sylia was quick to pick up on.  
  
"You don't like the changes?" she asked carefully. "Ten years ago, this city was a disaster."  
  
"But is the price to rebuild it too steep?" He motioned to the view. "How much of this city does GENOM own outright, or control through other corporations?"  
  
Sylia sipped her tea. "A strange thing for a CEO of a Megacorp to be asking, isn't it?"  
  
He turned and smiled thinly at her. "Sylia, I'm not Quincy. I still believe in white knights and slaying evil dragons. Only, these days, my knights are lawyers and accountants, and the Evil dragons are called GENOM and Gulf and Bradley."  
  
"Still dreaming, aren't you?"  
  
"It's the only way." He reached across and placed a hand on one of hers. "I hear your brother is studying in Germany. How is he, by the way?"  
  
"He's doing very well," she replied, gently disengaging her hand from his. "He's home for the holiday."  
  
"Following in his father's footsteps?"  
  
Sylia nodded, then put her cup down. _Time to go on the offensive_. "Enough of the good old days. What's the real reason you wanted to see me? I know why you're here, and I'm not sure I like the reason. Why does MALCORP want Janie VanDell?"  
  
"You don't miss much."  
  
"You're not answering my question."  
  
Greg inhaled deeply, then released it slowly. "Since you insist. Doctor Nathan VanDell is - was, an old friend of the family. He and my mother went to the same school, and worked together on several projects."  
  
Sylia nodded. "And how much did you know about the work he was doing?"  
  
"Very little, it turns out. Two years ago, he came to me when his company was in financial trouble, and asked if I was interested in buying into his company. I paid three times the value for a thirty per cent share in the company, just so one of the other Megacorps didn't slide it and grab it."  
  
"How helpful of you."  
  
Greg ignored the sarcasm. "We didn't discover exactly what Doctor VanDell was working on until just before we left the United States to come here."  
  
"It wouldn't be a force shield small enough to fit on a Boomer or a hardsuit, would it?"  
  
"You have good sources."  
  
"Thank you, but what does this have to do with Janie VanDell?"  
  
"You're the second person in two days who's asked me that question." He paused to sip his tea. "And I'm going to tell you exactly what I told him. I've known Janie since she was born. She's a bright, sweet natured teenager who wants to be a medical doctor. She's also the only  
person still living who knows the plans for the force shield." He gripped the teacup tightly, and said in a loud voice, "I'm not going to have my goddaughter's mind shredded for a lousy piece of electronic junk!"  
  
One or two people in other booths turned to look at them, but Greg's stare sent them quickly back to their own meals. Greg took a deep breath, and continued in a voice just above a whisper. "Somebody has gone too far this time, and after we extract Janie out of whatever hole  
she's in, I'm going to make sure that the people responsible never have the chance to do anything like that again."  
  
"Whose we?"  
  
"MALCORP, and the Black Knights."  
  
"What about the Knight Sabers?"  
  
Greg looked carefully at her. "That's one of the reasons why I asked you here today. I want an alliance between the Black Knights and the Knight Sabers."  
  
Sylia felt a stab of coldness grip her. He wasn't guessing. _He knows!_ "Why tell me?" she asked slowly, her face still. "Why should I care about the Knight Sabers?"  
  
A flash of irritation crossed his face. "Sylia, don't deny being part of the Knight Sabers. As I said in my note, I was almost sure you were behind the team before I came here, and after last night, I'm certain of it."  
  
Sylia looked at him coolly. "And what makes you think I'm behind the Knight Sabers?"  
  
He leaned back. "I remember a shy young girl with a genius IQ, and a drive to be just like her father. I remember her taking apart my toy Boomer, examining it, then putting back together so well, it worked better then it had before."  
  
"I'm surprised you remembered."  
  
"I had some help, just like you did." he replied cryptically. "I don't think you're changed all that much in the last thirteen years, and I don't believe you are just an owner of a lingerie store."  
  
He sipped his tea. "A simple businesswoman wouldn't hold onto the land where her father's lab once stood, not when she could demand nearly any price for it." He looked out the window. "I've seen some of those offers, and several were more then generous. That property is not an  
investment for you, it's a reminder to you about whom the enemy is, and what they will do to succeed."  
  
"An interesting idea," replied Sylia blandly  
  
"And then there's Doctor Raven. I've known him for years and my mother has known him for a lot longer then I have. If there's three other scientists in the world who can match his creditals, you've found them all. There's at least ten Megacorps, including MALCORP, who would pay him a huge amount to have him working for them." He looked out the window. "Believe me, I've tried, but he refuses to leave this city. For him to be running a garage in a slum area is akin to finding Albert Einstein working as a High School Physics teacher."  
  
"That's not much evidence."  
  
"No," he admitted, looking into his tea. "But Doctor Raven is a man of honor. Men like him are not easily induced with money or other materiel things if it means sacrificing their honor. I think . . . " He stopped. "No, I know, it is honor that keeps him here. He was a good friend  
of your father's, Sylia."  
  
"I know. He's been a good friend to Mackie and me since Father died."  
  
"I know. He's the type of man who would keep a promise to a friend. A promise to your father to help you and Mackie fight the battle that Katsuhito Stingray knew was coming."  
  
Sylia nodded slowly. "What else makes you think I'm behind the Knight Sabers?"  
  
"The incident outside the pool hall last night, for one. The battle on the highway, for another."  
  
 _Damn!_ "I suppose denying it is out of the question?"  
  
"It is. I know you were there at the pool hall, and on the highway."  
  
"Did you tell Knight One my name?"  
  
He took a deep breath. "I suppose since I know a secret of yours, Sylia, I should trust you with one of mine."  
  
She was silent for a minute, surprised at this admission. "What type of secret?"  
  
He put down his teacup, and looked directly into her eyes. "Sylia," he said quietly, but firmly. "I am Knight One. The Black Knights work for me, and with me. I was the one outside of the pool hall. I was the one who warned you about the backup team that tried to kill you, and I  
was the one who took out that Boomer." He picked up his teacup. "Any questions?"  
  
She sat there, silent, her mind numbed. The man who sat across from her, someone she'd known as a child, doing the same thing she was doing. _Are we that much alike? And yet, what he said made sense. Too much sense. I need time to think_.  
  
"What about Priss?" she asked slowly, afraid of the words.  
  
"She's always that ill-tempered?"  
  
Sylia smiled weakly, then nodded. "You get use to it after a while."  
  
"I hope so, because she gives new meaning to the term `Loose Cannon'. As to her current health, well, she has three broken ribs, a concussion, but healthy otherwise. Her hardsuit's a bit mangled though."  
  
Sylia nodded slowly. "When do we get her back?"  
  
"Later today. Leon will drive her to a location you chose, and turn her over to you."  
  
Her eyebrow went up. "Is that wise? Priss has been starving off a potential relationship with him for several years now."  
  
Greg chuckled. "That would explain why she spent several minutes and an extensive use of street language letting Leon know just how a big a jerk he is. From the way he acted last night, I suspect Leon's known about Priss being a Knight Saber for a while now."  
  
"Oh? Priss never said anything about it to me."  
  
"That's because Leon didn't tell anyone about it, including Priss, until today. Under that macho exterior is a true romantic."  
  
"That's debatable. Does he know about my involvement?"  
  
Greg shook his head. "With Priss, there was no way of avoiding it, but I will shield your identity from the rest of my people." He finished his cup and poured another. He added milk and sugar, then stirred his tea slowly. "Priss doesn't usually get close to people, does she?"  
  
Sylia shook her head. "Nearly everyone she's gotten close to has died on her. She's afraid."  
  
"I know how she feels. And so do you."  
  
"Do I?"  
  
Greg put his cup down and reached out to hold her hand. "You do," he said, and Sylia saw a gleam in his eyes. "I know because you and I are much alike. We both fight against something we see as wrong, using our minds, hearts, and souls to blunt the excesses of GENOM and the other Megacorps."  
  
She again removed her hand from his. "Assuming I believe you about Janie VanDell," she said coolly, "why bother talking to me at all? It seems your people have things well under control."  
  
"I think that it's time some matters were cleaned up. That's another reason that I asked you here today. I need you to tell you some things you don't know anything about."  
  
Sylia felt a lump form in her stomach. "What things?"  
  
"For one, your father is not the sole inventor of the hardsuits you use."  
  
 ************  
  
Gulf and Bradley - Japan Headquarters  
MegaTokyo, Japan  
Saturday, December 22, 2035  
11:39am  
  
** Carlton Bradley came storming through the front doors of the building, with Ozu and two of the Boomer bodyguards right behind him. The other two bodyguards had preceded their boss, and were scanning the area for possible trouble.  
  
If the actions of the bodyguards weren't enough warning, the expression on Bradley's face more then made up for it. He was seething, and he did nothing to hide it. _Why must I be surrounded by idiots?  
  
_ He strode toward the elevators, Ozu and the Boomers forming a tight circle around him. Employees and visitors alike gave way before the small knot of men, none wanting to risk the displeasure of a man well known for his temper.  
  
The elevator ride up was made in silence, as was the walk to the office. Bradley slammed open the door to his office, startling the people waiting inside. He strode in followed by Ozu and two of the Boomer bodyguards. As he walked around to his desk, he glared at each of them. He  
continued to stare at each of them after he sat, allowing the tension in the room to build slowly.  
  
There were seven people in the office besides the four that had come in. Four were dressed in subdued suits that Ozu insisted his security people wear. They were standing in front of the desk, along with Doctor Zin-Choon, and a heavyset woman wearing a lab coat. Cora Bradley sat by herself on the couch nearest the desk, looking like a cat getting ready to play with a mouse.  
  
After a minute, Bradley said in a seemly mild tone, "What exactly happened?"  
  
A thin man in a rumpled suit nervously licked his lips, and stepped forward. Bradley looked at him, waiting for the man to speak. When the man said nothing, Bradley slammed his hand down on the desk. The loud crack startled everyone in the room.  
  
"I will say this once," Bradley said in a low, tight voice barely above a whisper. "I want to know what happened to Janie VanDell, and if you people don't tell me now, I will fire you so fast your head will spin. Once more, I'll see you never work anywhere in this city ever again.  
Is that clear?" He stared at the man in the rumpled suit. "You start, Chasen."  
  
Chasen licked his lips. "I was on monitor duty in the security area. At ten twenty-five, I saw the VanDell girl throw a sheet over the security camera. As soon as she did, I alerted the security team on duty."  
  
"We confirmed that," said Cora.  
  
Carlton didn't look at his sister. He looked at another of the security men. "Hathaway, what happen next?"  
  
"We reached the girl's cell at ten twenty-eight," replied the squat, thick-faced man. "We attempted to open the cell door. But the door didn't respond to the key card, or the override sequence."  
  
"The little Bitch had managed to pry open a small access panel and shorted out the door motor," said Cora, her voice laden with anger.  
  
"It took us several minutes to force open the door. By the time we managed to open the door, she lying on the bed, with blood everywhere," continued Hathaway.  
  
"How did she manage to slit her wrists?" asked Carlton sharply, his face a mask of rage.  
  
"She broke off a piece of the bed's metal slats, and somehow managed to sharpen an edge on it."  
  
"Why wasn't her cell searched on a regular basis?"  
  
"Because we were ordered not to."  
  
"Whose orders?"  
  
"Miss Bradley, sir. We were told to have no contact with the girl in any way, shape or form. The girl wasn't to see or talk to anyone."  
  
"I see." He didn't look at the female Doctor. "Doctor Kyso, What is her condition?"  
  
"Critical," replied the woman. "She lost a lot of blood."  
  
"What about a blood transfusion?"  
  
Kyso shook her head. "She has an abnormal blood condition that makes a normal blood transfusion impossible. If we gave her regular blood, it would kill her."  
  
Carlton closed his eyes and leaned back. "What are you doing to try and stabilize her?"  
  
"She's hooked up to a machine that will keep her alive for the time being. I have people quietly scouring the city for either people with the same condition to use in a transfusion, or a source in one of the labs." She shrugged. "The next twenty-four hours are critical for her."  
  
"Go back to your patient, Doctor," said Carlton wearily. "She is to be your only concern until she's improved."  
  
Kyso nodded and stalked out of the office. Carlton opened his eyes to look at the four security men. "I should fire the whole lot of you right this second," he said, letting some of the anger back into his voice. "But, I can't fire you for following orders - even my sister's." He saw her straighten up in anger and he smiled slightly. Let her stew for a while.  
  
"What I am going to do, though, is put the four of you on probation for the next six months. Any other screwups, of any size, and you're fired. No appeals, no reconsiderations, but you will be gone. Understood?"  
  
The four men chorused a ragged series of "Yes, Sirs" and "Understood, Sirs".  
  
"Then, get out."  
  
The four security men hustled out of the room. Carlton watched them leave, then looked at Ozu. "Those four are to get every lousy job that comes along for security in the next six months. If any of them survive, they get a clean bill of health and the matter closed."  
  
"Yes sir. Any other actions against them?"  
  
Carlton shook his head. "Not unless I say so. That is all. I need to speak to my sister and Doctor Zin-Choon over this matter."  
  
The Security chief nodded, and strode out of the office. After Ozu closed the door, Carlton looked at his sister. "Why did you issue such an order?"  
  
Cora shrugged. "I didn't want her to be able to identify anyone. Also, I didn't want to take the chance that one of our people would feel sorry for her and help her escape."  
  
"Does that include security?" hissed Carlton. "Damn it Cora! Your order came close to ruining six months of work!"  
  
"How was I supposed to know the little witch would have the balls to cut her own wrists?" snapped Cora. "Her psychological profile showed no signs of this!"  
  
"May I say something?" asked Zin-Choon mildly.  
  
Carlton looked at the doctor. His anger at his sister had caused him to forget the presence of the interrogator. "Yes, Doctor?" he asked coldly.  
  
"I afraid Miss Bradley is not quite correct about the girl's psychological profile."  
  
Cora glared at the Doctor. "What do you mean?"  
  
"While the psychological profile does not show a suicidal tendency, it does show a very intelligent girl who will analyze her position and act accordingly."  
  
"So?" asked Carlton.  
  
"Put herself into her position. She's alone, no chance of escape, and she knows she can't hold out for much longer. So, she decides to prevent us from securing the information we need the only way she can - by killing herself."  
  
"Only because we gave her the time!" shouted Cora, standing. "If you hadn't asked my brother to give her a day's rest, we would have the data by now!"  
  
"I doubt it," replied Zin-Choon quietly. He looked at Cora, his expression unreadable. "I know her type. She would have found another way to resist us. An attempted escape on the way to the interrogation chamber, or throwing herself off a balcony, or out a window . . . " He sighed. "All she has managed to do is delay any interrogation for the foreseeable future. To attempt now would be folly." He stood up and walked to the door. "I suggest that the girl be restrained, in case she tries again. Good Morning."  
  
"Now what?" asked Cora, after the Doctor left.  
  
"Now?" said Carlton softly. "Now, we start a war."  
  
 ************  
  
  
**  



	24. Chapter 24

*************************************************  
  
 **Ch apter 24  
  
AD Police Headquarters  
Saturday, December 22, 2035  
11:42am  
  
** Daley Wong stalked into the office, feeling only slightly better after four hours sleep then he had before. He stopped long enough to pour himself a cup of coffee, then sat down and stared at the pile of paper on his desk.  
  
"You all right?" asked a voice from behind him.  
  
Daley blearly turned and looked up to see a clean-shaven male face framed by short dark hair. The face had brown eyes, and a look of concern. His face was a bit sharp for Daley's liking, but he wasn't ugly by any stretch of the imagination.  
  
"Lousy night," Daley mumbled to the face. He turned back to his desk and sipped his coffee, feeling the hot liquid run down his throat and banish some of the weariness.  
  
"I'm looking for Inspector McNichols or Wong," said the face.  
  
"I'm Wong," replied Daley, feeling slightly better. "Who are you?"  
  
The face perched itself on the edge of Daley's desk, and the inspector duly noted the body the face was attached to was slim and well trimmed, wearing a nice, but not too expensive suit.  
  
"I'm Kosaku Sanemori. I've been assigned to the ADP Investigations division." He smiled and stuck out a hand. "Call me Ko."  
  
Daley took the hand, and they shook. "Welcome to the world of no sleep mixed with a few minutes of complete terror ever so often."  
  
Ko chuckled. "You look like hell."  
  
"I feel worse. You'll look like this after a while."  
  
"The Coastal Highway incident?"  
  
Daley nodded. "What are the press saying about it? I haven't bothered watching any of the news coverage."  
  
Ko grimaced. "You don't want to know."  
  
"That bad?"  
  
"The ADP is being blamed for everything short of actually launching the attack from orbit. The UN is in an uproar, the USA is scrambling to find out what happened, the USSD is being roasted for not stopping the attack, and the Diet is demanding an explanation from everyone. About the only ones who aren't on the hot seat are GENOM and Quincy."  
  
"Wonderful." Daley downed the rest of his coffee in one go, and stood up slowly. "Since Inspector McNichols is on vacation, you can partner up with me. I'll give you the ten-yen tour of our happy establishment, then we can head out."  
  
"Sure."  
  
An ADP officer strode up to the pair just then. "Inspector," said the officer. "The Chief wants to see you."  
  
"Oh, glory," muttered Daley, scratching his head. He waved at Ko. "Stay here while I see what the Chief wants."  
  
"No problem."  
  
Daley shuffled over to the Chief's office, and knocked on the door. He heard what sounded like "Enter" and opened the door and walked in.  
  
Like Leon, Daley didn't like the chief much. Unlike Leon, he was better at hiding his dislike. The man was a weak leader, a bureaucrat of the worse sort. While Chief Todo had been a veteran police officer who done his best to support his men in the field, this new chief was completely clueless. The fact he looked like a mildly successful United States President from late in the last century didn't help much.  
  
You wanted to see me, Sir?" he asked politely.  
  
The Chief nodded, not bothering to look up from his paperwork. "Is your report on last night's incident complete yet?"  
  
"No sir. I think it's going to take at least a couple of days to complete it."  
  
"Oh?" The Chief looked up with mild interest. "And why is that?"  
  
"It's going to take a couple of days for the evidence people to go over the area. And there's going to be teams from everywhere crawling all over the site. The press is calling it an unprovoked strike from an American satellite, so I expect the Americans to send a team of their own. The Diet, USSD and the UN are bound to get involved, and I would prefer to talk to them before I commit the ADP to a stance on this matter."  
  
"I see." If there was one thing the Chief understood, it was bureaucratic wrangling between different groups.  
  
"Also," Daley continued, "I need to review the reports of the Detachment commanders before I can complete my own report."  
  
The Chief nodded sagely. "I uderstand. Thank you, Inspector."  
  
"Yes Sir." Daley turned and walked away. As he reached the door, the Chief voice stopped him again. "There's something else that's bothering me, and I would like your answer."  
  
Daley turned to look at him. "Sir?"  
  
"I understand you had a phone call from Mr. McNichol last night just before you ordered the ADP units to pull back. Can you explain this?"  
  
 _Oh, Shit_. Daley thought furiously for several seconds, then nodded slowly. _It's stupid, but it just might fool him_. "Yes Sir, I did receive a phone call from Leon last night, warning me about the satellite attack."  
  
"And how did he know about the attack?"  
  
Here goes nothing. "He's working undercover, sir."  
  
The Chief's face took on a puzzled look. "Undercover?"  
  
"Yes, sir," replied Daley with a straight face.  
  
"But he shouted at me yesterday that I should take this job and sh -"  
  
"All to establish the fact that he'd quit the ADP and wasn't working for us."  
  
"I don't understand."  
  
Because that would take a brain. "Sir, Leon heard from one of his informants that there was a Corpwar brewing. You heard about the shootings last night involving Boomer-led hit teams?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"That was the opening salvo. Leon figured that if he could get inside one of the corps involved, he could limit the amount of damage to the city. So, he quit publicly, and one of the Corps picked him up."  
  
"So, the yelling at me . . . "  
  
"Was to convince anyone listening outside that he really was quitting."  
  
The Chief leaned back and stared at Daley. "Why didn't he tell me?"  
  
"He thinks the Corps has agents inside the ADP." He held up a hand at the Chief's expression of anger. "Not you, Sir. He decided that the fewer people who knew, the better. I had to know, so as to keep things running along without him. He didn't tell you, just in case you had to issue a statement denying ADP's involvement in the matter.Plausible denialbilty, I believe is the correct term."  
  
"Oh."  
  
"If you check his file, it notes that it lists him as on vacation."  
  
"I see. And he didn't mean those things he said about me?"  
  
"No, Sir."  
  
"Thank you, Inspector. I need to think some on this subject. That's all."  
  
Daley left the office, his mind whirling. _Why didn't you just tell him Leon's actually a secret agent for the USSD? That might have been more believable!  
  
_ He was aware of Kosaku Sanemori waiting by his desk, waiting for him. "You all right, Inspector?"  
  
Daley gave him a tired smile. "First rule around here is call me Daley, not Inspector. Ready for a tour?"  
  
 ************  
  
Dastari's Restaurant  
Tinsel City  
Saturday, December 22, 2035  
11:03am  
  
** "I don't believe you," Sylia replied coolly. "The Hardsuits are Katsuhito Stingray's creations."  
  
Greg shrugged. "I'm telling you the truth. The original idea for the Hardsuits was his, as was most of the work on the outer shells, and most of the musclar components. But, you know that he didn't have the skill or the knowledge to design some of the components you use, like the innerwear suits, or the weapons systems."  
  
"Then who does? And what really happened at Bioescape?"  
  
Greg sipped his tea. "I should start at the beginning. My mother told me most of the story, the rest I found out on my own or I can guess at. Your father's work on Boomers was well known in the science community. So when he contacted my mother and several other people, invited them into the project, they jumped at the chance."  
  
Sylia nodded. "That's why you came here."  
  
"Yes. Mother thought the experience of living in another country would be good for me." He refilled his teacup, added milk and sugar, and stirred slowly.  
  
"After my mother and the others arrived," he continued slowly, "your father told them the truth. He was closer to perfecting the Boomer design then anyone else knew. But he saw Mason's greed, and he didn't trust Quincy. He realized that there was a need for something to counter  
the strength and power of a Boomer. Thus, the idea of hardsuits was born. In the hands of the right people, they would be the best defense against rampaging Boomers."  
  
"He was right."  
  
"Your father realized that he couldn't openly devote time and money to hardsuit development. He was sure Mason and GENOM had agents inside Bioescape. So, while he directed all attention and publicity on the Boomer project, the team working on the hardsuits worked in the  
shadows. They were supposedly perfecting several minor sub-systems for the Boomer project that had already been completed." He looked at Sylia. "But Mason caught wind of the project, and put pressure on Doctor Stingray to share the hardsuit designs with GENOM."  
  
Sylia was silent for a minute. "That's why Mason killed him. Not for the Boomer plans, but for the hardsuits designs."  
  
Greg nodded. "I don't know if Mason was acting on orders from Quincy, or on his own, but he was definitely after the designs. But by the time he made his move, it was too late. Your father had disbanded the hardsuit development team and purged the computer systems in Bioescape of all related data. Finally, he gave copies of the hardsuit designs to three team members, including Dr. Raven. My mother was one of those three. Mason and GENOM got nothing but the Boomer designs."  
  
"And the other member?"  
  
"I don't know. Mother doesn't know, or will not tell me. For my own protection, or so she tells me. I suspect that's why several of Doctor Stingray's associates had 'fatal accidents' over the years."  
  
"So, what happened after the team was disbanded?"  
  
"GENOM came sniffing around my mother, but they didn't find anything. All they could find out was she had done some minor work on the Boomer project, then left several months before the explosion that killed your father. And Mason wasn't about to arrange an `accident' for my mother - my father let him know that wasn't a good idea."  
  
"What did he do?"  
  
Greg's smile became grim. "MALCORP was a subcontractor on the particle beam satellites. Among my father's talents was that of a system programmer. He quietly incorporated a fail-safe into the targeting system during the last stages of the design process. He told Mason that if my mother met with a fatal 'accident' of any sort, the satellites would fire and eliminate every single GENOM tower on the planet within five minutes of her death."  
  
Sylia leaned back and looked at him in shock. "Is it still active?" she asked slowly.  
  
Greg shook his head. "One of the first things I did as CEO of MALCORP was to shut down the fail-safe. It would need a special key to start it up again." His smile became warmer. "Of course, only three people know I've done it -- Myself, Mother, and now you. As far as GENOM's concerned, the system is still in place."  
  
Sylia closed her eyes. "That's a relief." She opened them again. "I'm surprised, however, you let such a weapon slip away so easily. There's several others that would kill to have a weapon like that."  
  
"And become the next GENOM?" asked Greg sharply. He stared out the window again. "When I saw what those particle beams did to Aqua City, the GENOM towers in Chicago, Berlin, and Sydney, I couldn't leave it in place, no matter how much GENOM deserved it. Too many innocent people would die."  
  
"So, why did you end up with hardsuits designs? And why the Black Knights?"  
  
"I guessing now, so don't take this as one hundred percent fact, but it should be somewhat close to the truth." He paused, then started. "Your father knew that it would take more then superior hardware to keep the Boomers from rampaging wildly. It would take people, special  
people to carry the fight."  
  
"Yes."  
  
Greg put his teacup down. "But who is he going to trust to continue the fight against GENOM? Most of the people he's working with are too old to go running around in hardsuits, assuming that they're not spies for GENOM. And would you give a person off the street a hardsuit?"  
  
"Not without knowing them really well."  
  
"Exactly. But what about the children of those same researchers? They're young enough to adapt the mind set, and aren't yet under the influence of corporate loyalties. But he can't recruit just any child. They have to be bright enough, physically active, and mentally tough."  
  
"So," interrupted Sylia, "Father quietly watches the children of his coworkers, looking for the right type to recruit."  
  
"Yes. Think back to that group of kids we were apart of. How many do you think could climb into a hardsuit and go out Boomer hunting today?"  
  
Sylia was silent for a moment. "Not many," she replied at last.  
  
"'Not many' is right. I think only you and I made the cut."  
  
Sylia looked out the window. "What else did you receive besides the hardsuit designs?"  
  
"Very perceptive," replied Greg. "I got a data cassette as a sixteenth birthday present. A very special Data cassette."  
  
"What was the number on it?"  
  
"Number one." He grimaced in memory. "I had a headache for a week after viewing it. What was the number on yours?"  
  
"Mine was Number two." She looked away from the window and gave him a small smile in sympathy. "You're not alone in having a headache after viewing the data cassette. But why your sixteenth birthday?"  
  
"When did you receive yours?"  
  
"Right after Father's death."  
  
"I see." Greg thought for a minute, sipping his tea as he did so. "Your cassette was his insurance policy."  
  
Sylia nodded. "I always knew that father was a meticulous planner, but for something like this...."  
  
They were silent for a moment, then Greg said, "If your father had lived, I'm certain he would've guided your course in life very much as you've done on your own. He would have taught you and Mackie everything that was on that data cassette at a slower pace, and groomed you to  
take either his place, or command the hardsuit team. But he never got the chance."  
  
"But why did you get a cassette?"  
  
"Because I was halfway around the world. For me to come anywhere near this city after we left would have peaked GENOM's interest, something Doctor Stingray wanted to avoid." He chuckled. "I expect that I was also a gunia pig with the imprinting process."  
  
"And how did it work?"  
  
"So damn well, it's scary. I went from being an above average student to an exceptional pupil overnight. I earned my bachelor's degree in three years, my MBA a year and a half after that."  
  
Sylia nodded in understanding. "I experienced the same thing."  
  
He waved a hand causally. "After college, I worked for MALCORP in different departments, learning the nut and bolts of the business under the best people my father had. When he died several years ago, I became the CEO of the fifth largest Megacorp in the world."  
  
"What about the Black Knights?"  
  
Greg paused to sip some tea. "I organize the first team six months after I took over MALCORP. I recruited people I could trust, trained them, and led them for the first six months."  
  
"What happened after that?"  
  
"My duties as CEO began to eat into my time. I couldn't lead the Black Knights and effectively run a Megacorp at the same time. MALCORP simply won out, as the corporation as several hundred thousand employees who depended on me doing my job. I expanded the unit to six three-man teams, and I still supervise the overall operations. But, these days, I only put on the armor if the mission is important, or personal. This mission is both."  
  
"I see. What do you want from the Knight Sabers?"  
  
"As I said before, an alliance between the Black Knights and the Knight Sabers. Somewhere in this city, there is one scared and lonely fourteen-year old girl. She's been torn away from her family, her father killed, all because she's got the plans for new technology in her memory.  
Between our two groups, we can rescue her."  
  
"Your people seem capable of doing the job."  
  
"We don't know the city like your people do. The freelancers we were using have gone underground because our enemy went after them last night."  
  
"Fargo's one of your freelancers?"  
  
Greg nodded. "Several others weren't as lucky as you two were. From the makeup of the group last night, all the hit teams were Boomer led. I sent word out to the freelancers to go under-ground. I don't risk people unnecessarily."  
  
"What's in it for us?"  
  
"Fifty million up front, one hundred million more when the actual location is found."  
  
"Interesting." Sylia sipped her own tea. _Time to find out how much interest he has in the girl, and how much is in the technology she has locked in her mind.  
  
_ "Interesting?"  
  
"The money isn't the problem."  
  
"But?"  
  
"What about the shield technology Janie has in her memory?"  
  
She saw Greg stiffen. "What about it?" he asked.  
  
"What are your plans for it?"  
  
Greg's face darkened with anger, and his eyes narrowed. "That goddamned shield generator should never have been created," he said, his words low and hard. "If I could remove the memories from Janie's mind with a wave of my hand, I would so without a second thought. Because  
of that piece of technology, nearly twenty people are dead, twice as many are wounded or injured, and Janie is going through God knows what. All I want is Janie back. Everything else can go to hell."  
  
Sylia looked at him, her mind analyzing his words. _There's a ring of truth there. Enough to trust him - for now_. "All right, I think we can discuss terms. Make I make a phone call first?"  
  
Greg finished his tea, and poured himself another cup. "Go ahead."  
  
Sylia pulled out her cellar phone and dialed the number for the special line in Raven's garage. It rang twice, then was picked up in the middle of the third ring. /Hello?/ asked a cautious male voice.  
  
"Mackie. Staying out of trouble?"  
  
She heard him relax slightly as he heard the code phase for 'everything's OK'. /Sis, are you all right?/ he asked slowly.  
  
"Yes, I'm sitting here with Greg Mallory right now. I called to make sure everything's all right."  
  
She could almost hear the gears turn in Mackie's head as he thought of a reply. He knew the line was prone to being tapped, so any direct reference to anything dealing with the Medusa protocols or the Knight Sabers was out of the question. /I take it then the job you wanted me to  
do at one o'clock is on hold, right?/  
  
"Yes, but stay where you are for now. Greg and I have some business to discuss, and I'll call you back in a couple of hours. Greg did tell me some good news about a friend of ours, the one we were so worried about."  
  
/How is she?/  
  
"Not too bad, considering the accident she was in. I'll call you with details when she can receive visitors."  
  
/Great! I'll call the others, and let them know the good news./  
  
"I'll talk to you in a couple of hours. Bye." She hung up, and replaced the phone in her handbag.  
  
Just then, Marla walked up to the table. "Excuse me, sir. This just came in." She handed Greg a folded sheet of paper.  
  
Greg unfolded the sheet and read the message. The expression on his face became one of curiosity as he read the note. "Interesting," he said finally.  
  
"What is?" asked Sylia.  
  
"What are you doing tonight?"  
  
That question caught her flatfooted. What type of question is that? "I-I don't know," she managed to stammer out.  
  
Greg gave her a quirky smile. "It seems Quincy has decided to see what I'm doing on his turf. He just sent me an invitation to have dinner with him tonight."  
  
"And you want me to accompany you to this dinner?"  
  
"Why not? It should be a pleasant experience."  
  
Sylia stared at him. "I don't believe you. You haven't changed - you're still full of surprises."  
  
"Thank you. Now, are you free tonight? I promise you, no business talk, or other work related subjects. Just you, me, Quincy, and a cast of thousands."  
  
She chuckled softly. "You don't quit, do you?"  
  
"I'm not allowed to." He grew serious again. "If I had my choice, Quincy could go jump off GENOM tower. I don't want to see the old ghoul, but I can't ignore him."  
  
"And Janie?"  
  
"I've got my people looking over a prime suspect right now."  
  
"It wouldn't be Gulf and Bradley Japan, would it?"  
  
Greg raised an eyebrow. "You are well informed, aren't you?"  
  
"Fargo listed them as a wild card. He also said that the head of the local branch, Carlton Bradley, is ruthless and his sister Cora is crazy."  
  
"A fair assessment of both of them."  
  
"They're your prime suspect?"  
  
"They are."  
  
Sylia looked out the window. "I think dinner would be a nice idea. What time should I be ready?"  
  
"According to the note, dinner starts at eight. Is seven o'clock early enough?"  
  
"Seven o'clock is fine."  
  
"About your fee...."  
  
Sylia removed a small pad and pencil from her purse, wrote a series of numbers on a slip of paper, and handed the slip to Greg. "The account is at the First National Bank of Hong Kong. How soon can you make the transfer?"  
  
Greg waved Marla over. "Ten minutes. I want to route the money through several accounts before depositing it." He handed his assistant the slip of paper and whisper the instructions to her. She nodded and left them alone.  
  
He leaned forward, placed his elbows on the table, and steepled his fingers. "What about your team mate?"  
  
"Have Leon drive Priss to her trailer. I'll have someone meet them there. Is three o'clock a good time?"  
  
"They'll be there."  
  
Sylia stood. "I want a free hand in this VanDell matter."  
  
"You have it." He reached inside his suit and handed her a business card. "I can be contacted at this number at any time."  
  
She took the card. "I'll let you know what I've turned up. It's been good to see you, Greg."  
  
"Same here. See you at seven o'clock."  
  
"Until then."  
  
Sylia turned and walked away. She had some phone calls to make, and some planning to do. She just hope she could trust Greg. . . .  
  
 ************  
  
GENOM Tower  
MegaTokyo, Japan  
Saturday, December 22, 2035  
11:56am  
  
** Quincy was standing at the window when Faust entered the office.  
  
"What is it?" the chairman asked, not looking away from the window.  
  
"I've just received word from Mr. Mallory's personal assistant that Mr. Malloy has accepted your dinner invitation for this evening."  
  
"Excellent. Have the dinner arrangements been made?"  
  
"Yes Sir. Also, Mr. Mallory is bringing a guest."  
  
Quincy turned and looked at Faust. "Who is it?"  
  
"Miss Sylia Stingray."  
  
"Indeed?" The GENOM chairman smiled. It wasn't a warm smile. "An interesting turn of events. You have included her in the arrangements?"  
  
"I thought it prudent to do so, Sir."  
  
"Excellent. Enough about pleasure for now. What is the latest regarding Gulf and Bradley Japan?"  
  
Faust adjusted his glasses. "Something is going on there. There's increased security in effect, and the Bradley twins have not been seen in public for several days."  
  
"I thought so," murmured Quincy. "What do our spies inside Gulf and Bradley say?"  
  
"As I said, there's a very tight lid on security at Gulf and Bradley Japan. Ozu is very cautious, and our people can't find out what's going on without risking their cover."  
  
Quincy turned to face his assistant. "If there is no other way, they are to risk everything to find out what's going on there. Those two are up to something, I just know it."  
  
"Sir, do you think it was Gulf and Bradley Japan that kidnaped Janie VanDell?"  
  
"I do. For what reason, I do not have an answer - yet. How is the Gulf and Bradley Main Office reacting to the latest developments here?"  
  
"They're taking a wait and see attitude. Janson Bradley is not certain about what's going on, but he's not about to step in unless he has to."  
  
Quincy sat down behind his desk and leaned back. "What about your investigation into the missing Boomers?"  
  
"My team is in place and they have started running down possible leads. I'm sorry I can't give you a solid timetable on this matter."  
  
"I want this matter resolved, no matter how long it takes. You are dismissed."  
  
Faust strode hurriedly out of the office. Quincy stared at the office door for several minutes, deep in thought. He turned his chair to face the window. His eyes picked out the squat glass and metal Gulf and Bradley-Japan building among the MegaTokyo skyline and stared at it for  
several more minutes in silence. Then, he whispered in an amused tone, "Think you can challenge me? We'll see if you have any of your father in you...."  
  
 ************  
  
**  



	25. Chapter 25

*************************************************  
  
Chapt er 25  
  
 **Highway 4  
MegaTokyo, Japan  
Saturday, December 22, 2035  
12:24pm  
  
** Sylia waited until she had steered her car out into traffic before she dialed Mackie on the more secured car phone. He answered it on the second ring. /Is it OK to talk now, Sis?/  
  
"Yes."  
  
/How did it go?/  
  
"Better then I thought." She outlined the conversation in several sentences. After she finished, she said, "I think we can cancel the Medusa protocols."  
  
Sylia heard her brother exhale slowly in relief. /You won't get an argument from me on that. What now?/  
  
"Can you get hold of Linna and Nene? I want us all at Priss' trailer when Leon shows up."  
  
/I think I can swing it. What about the job for Greg?/  
  
"After you call Nene and Linna, check the Hong Kong account. Once you've confirmed the money's been transferred, start a rundown on Gulf and Bradley Japan. Once we've retrieved Priss, I'll have Nene crack into their system."  
  
/I'm on it. Er . . . one other thing, Sis?/  
  
"What?"  
  
/How is Greg Mallory these days?/  
  
Sylia was silent for a minute as she tried to put her thoughts together. "He's still much the same, and yet . . . " she stopped, uncertain of how to continue.  
  
/Yet what?/  
  
"I don't know. It's kind of hard to describe right now."  
  
/Try me./  
  
"I'm having dinner with him tonight."  
  
/You're WHAT?/  
  
Sylia smiled. "You seemed surprised, little brother."  
  
/I...er...well..YES!/  
  
"And the dinner's going to be at GENOM Tower."  
  
She heard the sounds of disbelief and shock on the other end of the phone line. After several seconds, Mackie managed to croak out, /Are you crazy, Sis? This could be a trap!/  
  
"It isn't."  
  
/How do you know that?/  
  
"I just know." She glanced at her watch. "You better get started. I'll see you in about an hour."  
  
/OK, Sis. I just hope you know what you're doing./  
  
"I do. Good-bye, Mackie."  
  
/Good-bye./  
  
Sylia replaced the receiver in its cradle, and concentrated on her driving.  
  
 ************  
  
AD Police Headquarters  
Saturday, December 22, 2035  
12:29pm  
  
** "...system is three years out of date," continued Alan, pointing to several lines on his computer screen.  
  
"Why haven't they upgraded?" asked Nene. The ADP system security was worse than she thought. She hadn't realized how bad it was until Alan calmly described the problems and possible solutions. It had been an informative hour on the massive task ahead of her.  
  
Alan frowned. "One word: Money."  
  
"I should have guessed. Can we cobble something together ourselves?"  
  
"We can try. It may take some time though."  
  
Nene bit her lip in thought. She was beginning to warm up to the task ahead of her. To secure ADP's computer system was going to be interesting indeed. "How often do Crackers use this path into the system?"  
  
"One out of ten. But the ones who use it are the serious type, including Hacker forty-four."  
  
Nene stiffed a giggle behind a coughing fit. In the last hour, she'd discovered that Hacker forty-four had become a personal bugbear of Alan's. He was convinced this cracker was a member of the Knight Sabers, and had taken more then a little interest in tracking her down. The irony that his nemesis was now his superior was almost laughable. It also meant she was going to be extremely careful from now on.  
  
"You OK, Boss?"  
  
Nene inhaled. "I'm fine," she assured him. "Let's start with the closing up of the obvious holes in the system and go from there."  
  
The phone ran, interrupting them. Before Nene could react, Alan reached over and picked up the receiver. "Computer Security Officer, Corporal Tremolini speaking . . . Yes she is. Who's calling please?...One moment, please." He looked at Nene. "Phone for you, Boss," he said  
grinning. "Says he's your boyfriend."  
  
The redhead snatched the receiver out of his hand and glared at him. Alan was still smiling as he stood. "I'm going for a short walk," he announced, stretching slowly. "Back in a bit." With a wave, he walked out of the office and closed the door behind him.  
  
Once the door clicked into place, Nene spoke into the receiver, "Mackie?"  
  
/Yep./  
  
"You idiot!" she hissed. "What's the idea of calling me here and telling my subordinate you're my boyfriend?"  
  
/I didn't want to give him my name./  
  
"I'm going to have enough trouble with him without him thinking I'm some giggling schoolgirl!"  
  
/I didn't lie to him, did I?/  
  
Nene sighed. "No, you didn't. Just don't this a habit, OK?"  
  
/Don't worry. I called to tell you Sylia met with Greg Mallory for lunch, and Greg told Sylia that Priss is alive./  
  
A sense of relief washed over Nene. "How is she?"  
  
/Banged up but still breathing. Sylia wants to know if you'll be free this afternoon./  
  
"What's up?"  
  
/Leon's dropping off Priss at her trailer this afternoon. Want to be part of the welcome wagon?/  
  
"I think I can be there. Does Sylia want us in formal dress for this?"  
  
/Yep. Pick you up about two o'clock?/  
  
"That sounds good. I'd better get going. See you about two."  
  
/Bye./  
  
Nene hung up the phone, leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes. Tension she hadn't realized she had loosened in her neck and shoulders, and she relaxed completely. Priss was alive!  
  
Alan opened the door and strolled back into the office. "Ah, the excitement of having a social life," he said dryly when he saw Nene. "I hope you're not too attached to it."  
  
She opened her eyes and frowned at him. "What do you mean?"  
  
He returned it with a shrug. "I haven't had a date in eighteen months, and I can't remember the last time I talked to someone about any subject that didn't involve the ADP, computer security, or Crackers. It wasn't until I got home yesterday that I realized I'd spent the last  
two and a half days in this office. To say this department is understaffed is like saying GENOM Tower is big."  
  
Nene closed her eyes and tried hard not to grit her teeth. "How understaffed?"  
  
"There should be a minium of four people in this department, with eight being even better."  
  
"What does Lieutenant Asaikeda say?"  
  
Alan glanced outside the office door before he closed it slowly and walked over to Nene. "Lieutenant Asaikeda has absolutly no standing in the ADP hierarchy," he said in a low voice. "He's been doing his best to squeeze out more funds, but the Chief's too busy adding layers of bureaucratic red tape, which just makes Asaikeda's job harder." He waved his hand in the air. "The lieutenant's trying, but he's fighting a losing battle."  
  
"What about the other departments?"  
  
Alan shuddered. "They guard their turf like a mama grizzly bear guarding its young. Most won't even talk to me, as I'm 'acting' department head. They'll talk to you, but I wouldn't expect a miracle. It'll be easier getting blood out of a Boomer."  
  
Nene closed her eyes again, the beginning of a rather large headache forming in her temples. She heard Alan move to his desk, remove something from a desk drawer, then move into her cubical. She opened her eyes as he dropped two small pills into her hand. "What are these?"  
she asked.  
  
"Pain killers," he replied quietly, handing her a glass of water. "You look like you could use them."  
  
"Thanks." Nene took the pills, followed it with the contents of the glass. "I hadn't realized the situation was so screwed up."  
  
"No one outside the department does. You're going to spending as much time fighting with the other support sections as you will be fending off crackers and other intruders."  
  
"Oh great," moaned Nene  
  
"It's not that bad. I know the people involved, who to trust, and who not to. You may have to fight the other sections, but you won't be fighting in the dark. That's a promise."  
  
"Thanks, Alan."  
  
"No problem, Boss." He gave her a silly grin. "I'm now dependent on your performance evaluations, so I'd better help you do you job."  
  
"You're not upset that I've come in to take charge of the department?"  
  
"Why should I be? They're not going to give me the department anytime soon. Besides, I'd like to have someone to talk to besides myself."  
  
"You don't miss the street?"  
  
The smile faded from Alan's face. "I do. I won't give you the entire song and dance routine, but I don't belong here."  
  
"Your medical condition?"  
  
He nodded. "I was given a choice, either take a support position inside the ADP, or retire on a medical disability. I took the support position."  
  
"You don't want to tell me about your condition?"  
  
"Not right now. Sometime in the future, maybe. All I will say is that I'm not going to got crazy and start shooting people at random anything soon."  
  
"Do you want to give your fellow officers a hand in evening the odds somewhat against Boomers?"  
  
Alan snorted. "Short of joining the Knight Sabers, I don't see how."  
  
Nene looked at Alan carefully, looking for signs of nervousness or unease. There was none in his stance. "Nothing as active as that," she said finally.  
  
"Do you want to start a blood drive among the support staff?"  
  
Nene took a deep breath. _No time like the present_. "I'm putting together a team to do some special work for Daley and Leon. Are you interested?"  
  
"Doing what?" Alan's face was serious, despite the light tone of his words. "Cracking GENOM's computer security for Boomer design specs?"  
  
"In a word, yes."  
  
There was silence for several seconds. Nene's mouth went dry as she thought that maybe she'd moved too fast. The expression on Alan's face was unreadable. Finally, Alan smiled. "Sure, boss. Count me in."  
  
Nene didn't realize she'd been holding her breath until she exhaled. "Thanks Alan."  
  
Alan shrugged. "If I can't blast Boomers on the street myself, I can try and give my friends a shot at it." He cocked his head. "You got a hot date tonight?"  
  
Nene reddened. "That was my boyfriend. He'd called to tell me a friend who was in an accident last night is getting out of the hospital today."  
  
"What time?"  
  
"Three o'clock today."  
  
"Going to go see your friend?"  
  
"Yes. Is that all right?"  
  
Alan shrugged. "Hey, you're the boss. You set your own hours."  
  
"It's not like that!" Nene shouted. "My friend was traveling along the Coastal Highway last night, when the...."  
  
"Hold on!" Alan put his hands up in a gesture of surrender. "You convinced me, Boss. What time is your boyfriend picking you up?"  
  
"Two."  
  
"Good." He looked at his watch. "That gives us time for lunch, then another hour of explaining the system. speaking of which, are you ready for lunch?"  
  
"Sure. You buying?"  
  
"I suppose I can, this being your first day and all...."  
  
 ************  
  
Near Highway 17  
District 6  
Saturday, December 22, 2035  
1:29pm  
  
** Daley got out of the car slowly, putting on his sunglasses as he did so. _I feel like a bloody vampire_ , he thought. He glanced at the crater that started less then a hundred meters from where he was standing. There were hundreds of emergency personnel, with a smaller number of emergency Boomers assisting, swarming across the wreckage like ants over a piece of fruit.Several cranes were in operation, removing rubble and other signs of damage from the surrounding areas.  
  
Ko climbed out of the car and leaned on the roof. He'd done most of the talking during the drive, filling in Daley on his background. He was twenty seven years old, single, and had spent three years with the N-Police before requesting a transfer to the ADP. He'd become a police  
officer because his father, uncles, and grandfather had all been police officers.  
  
Daley scowled as he ignored Ko, and just stared at the mass of broken concrete before him. According to the information Daley had already read, there were at least a dozen craters within a kilometer's radius of this spot. They had been created by at least fifteen objects that had  
struck the earth in a matter of a few minutes ten hours before. The shallowest of the craters were only fifteen meters deep, while the deepest was close to a hundred meters deep and still too hot to safely approach.  
  
Ko stared at the twisted wreckage that had been the Coastal Highway twelve hours before. "It didn't look this nasty on television," he said slowly.  
  
Daley looked at him. "It never does," he said roughly. "Be thankful that it happened at three o'clock in the morning. Imagine the carnage if it had happened twelve hours sooner or later."  
  
"I don't want to." Ko looked off to his left. "Hold on, we've got a welcoming committee."  
  
Daley glanced in the direction Ko was looking in. A trio of figures was making their way through the rubble towards the ADP officers. Two of them he recognized at once.  
  
One was Assistant Police Commissioner Mizahara, a tall lean man with narrow eyes and a look of distaste perpetually etched on his sharp features. He wasn't well like among the officers on the street. Most thought he was on GENOM's payroll, while others believed he was too stupid to be worth bribing. After having to deal with him several times, Daley thought it was the latter.  
  
Trailing after Mizahara was a thin woman with flat features, short yellow hair, and wearing glasses that made her look like a misplaced librarian. She wore the same expression as did the Police Commissioner, and Daley flinched slightly. Ms. Amiko Dasen, Special Assistant to the Prim Minster of Japan. The stories about her weren't much better then the ones about Mizahara. Neither one could be considered a friend of the ADP.  
  
The only one Daly didn't recognize was a short, powerful looking man wearing mottled green-and-black army fatigues and boots. Unlike the other two, his expression appeared to be neutral, but Daley had enough experience in reading expression to guess that he had already sized up both Mizahara and Dasen, and wasn't happy with either one of them.  
  
"Ah, there you are, Inspector," said Mizahara in a nasal voice that was grating on the nerves at the best of times. This wasn't the best of times. "Have you anything new to report?"  
  
"No sir," replied Daley briskly. "It might take up weeks to sort through this mess."  
  
"Weeks?" replied Dasen. She shook her head. "We can't afford to wait weeks for you to finish shifting through this, this . . . . " She waved a hand in the direction of the craters.  
  
"Disaster," said the soldier in a deep rumbling voice. He was close enough for Daley to see the single star on the collar of the fatigues and read WOLFE off the name tag. "But, the Inspector is right. It could take weeks to shift through all of this."  
  
"Inspector Wong," said Mizahara in a bored tone, "this is Brigadier General Nathan Wolfe, United States Army. The General is spearheading the American team looking into this event. General Wolfe, this is Inspector Daley Wong, AD Police." He ignored Ko, who was watching every-thing in silence.  
  
Wolfe and Daley shook hands. Wolfe's grip was strong, but not overpowering. He gave Daley a searching look before he stepped back and nodded slightly.  
  
Mizahara looked around, then looked at Daley. "Where's Inspector McNichols?"  
  
"On another assignment, Sir."  
  
"What's more important then getting to the bottom of this?"  
  
"He's undercover, Sir. He's in with one of the groups involved with this destruction."  
  
The Assistant Police Commissioner frowned. "I see." He glanced at his watch. "I've a meeting to attend with the Mayor and Police Commissioner." He turned to his companions. "Care to join me?"  
  
Wolfe shook his head. "I want to stay and take another look at what my people have found."  
  
Dasen nodded grimly. "I need to talk to the Mayor about funding for the new construction. The sooner we settle that, the better."  
  
"Fine." Mizahara glanced at Daley. "I'll let you gentlemen to your work, then." He turned and walked off to a waiting limo, Dasen following.  
  
Wolfe waited until the limo drove off before he said, "Candy-assed bastards."  
  
Daley shrugged. "They sign the checks."  
  
"Maybe, but they're still Candy-assed bastards." He looked at Daley. "How do you people function with that bunch making the policy decisions?"  
  
"Badly." Daley pointed at GENOM Tower. "That's the reason why. They're scared of pissing off Quincy and company."  
  
Wolfe shook his head. "Loose anyone last night in this?"  
  
"We were lucky. We pulled back when we saw the incoming strike."  
  
"What exactly did you see?"  
  
Daley turned and looked at Ko. "Stay here," he said. "The General and I are going to take a look at the nearest crater."  
  
"Sure thing, Daley."  
  
The pair walked away from the car, toward the lip of the crater. They were halfway when Daley spoke. "We picked them up as they dropped out of the sky on radar. Some sort of plasma weapon is my guess."  
  
Wolfe shook his head. "Not exactly a plasma weapon. What happened here was the result of a Thor strike."  
  
"A what?"  
  
"A Thor Strike. Imagine large steel needles, each weighing a ton, dropped from orbit onto any target you choose. The heat and friction as the spike passes through the atmosphere turns the steel into white-hot plasma. When the spike hits, it releases all it's accumulated energy in one massive explosion."  
  
"Shit," Daley breathed. "Whose satellite?"  
  
Wolfe grimaced. "It was American. A relic from before the Space Weapons Deployment Ban Treaty. The President didn't know, and I doubt more then a handful of long time Congressmen who even remember the system being put into place." He glanced in the direction of the crater. "Hell, the Pentagon only told me about it two fucking hours ago - Three hours after I got here!"  
  
"Does Mizahara know about this?"  
  
Wolfe snorted. "I wouldn't trust that bozo with my shoe size, let alone anything important."  
  
Daley kept his voice level. "This wasn't an accident then?"  
  
"Hell no! Those bastards thought some yahoo with more RAM then common sense hacked into the system and tripped the fail safe." The General reached into a pocket and pulled out a pack of gum. He pulled a stick out of the pack, unwrapped it, and placed it in his mouth. He offered the pack to Daley, who accepted.  
  
After Daley started chewing his stick, Wolfe continued, "This isn't some Hacker prank gone wrong. Somebody on this planet did this deliberately." He looked at Daley. "I need to know what the hell happened here last night to cause such a reaction."  
  
"How many spikes hit here?"  
  
"At least a dozen and a half. I've got people checking the status of the few Thor satel-lites still in orbit. It won't be too difficult to figure out which one was used." He stopped and stared at the Inspector. "I read McNichol's and your file before I arrive. If those yellow-backed bastards gave ADP half the support you needed, you wouldn't be up shit's creek without a paddle. What happened here last night?"  
  
Daley licked his lips. _Better tell him the truth. He doesn't look like he'll take anything less._ "Have you ever hear of the Knight Sabers?"  
  
 ************  
  
  
**  



	26. Chapter 26

========================================================= ==  
  
 **Chapter 26  
  
Priss' Trailer  
Saturday, December 22, 2035  
2:56pm  
  
** The van was a nondescript brown in color, and was unremarkable in every other way from the outside. It drove towards the trailer at a slow rate of speed, avoiding patches of ice that dotted the lot.  
  
"See anything?" asked Priss. She was lying on a stretcher in the back of the van, unable to sit up to watch. The remains of her hardsuit laid in a large box beside her. While she waited for Leon's answer, she thought about the last couple of hours.  
  
Mallory had returned to the warehouse two hours before, his mood upbeat. "You're going home," he'd said when he entered the makeshift hospital room. "I made the arrangements. Three o'clock, your trailer."  
  
Priss looked at him, her face showing disbelief. Leon was out talking to Jeena about something, so the two of them were alone. "You spoke to Sylia?"  
  
"Yes, and she's a remarkable woman." There was a undercurrent of wistfulness in his voice. "She's concerned about you."  
  
"She going to give me hell for totaling the suit."  
  
"If she gives you a hard time, I'll pay for the damm thing."  
  
"Big words."  
  
"I keep my word." He hesitated. "This is probably a personal question, but is Sylia seeing anyone?"  
  
That caught Priss off guard. "Excuse me?"  
  
"Is she involved with anyone right now?"  
  
Priss felt a sudden bust of anger. She looked at Mallory, her eyes flashing with fury. "I don't know," she said forcefully, "and even if I did know, that's none of your damm business."  
  
Greg shrugged, her anger having no effect on his mood. "Fair enough." He glanced at his watch. "You'd better rest. Leon will be here in about an hour." Before Priss could say anything else, He'd turned and walked out of the room.  
  
"No one yet," replied Leon, bringing Priss out of her memories. "But we are a couple of minutes early."  
  
"Knowing my boss, she's already there, but staying out of sight."  
  
"That's possible. How are you feeling?"  
  
Priss gritted her teeth. Leon as an angel of mercy was becoming old quickly. "Leon, that's the third time in the last hour you've asked me that," she said. "You ask me one more time, and I'll strangle you."  
  
Leon chuckled. "You're getting better," he said lightly. His voice suddenly became serious. "Your friends are here."  
  
Priss felt the van slow to a stop. "Who's here?" she asked.  
  
"All three of your partners, plus a large truck. They're heading towards us now." He heard him climb out of the van and say cheerfully, "Good Afternoon, ladies! Leon's delivery service has arrived!" He left the door open so Priss could hear everything.  
  
"Is she is in the van?" asked Sylia, her voice distorted by her hardsuit's speakers.  
  
"Yes Ma'am!," replied Leon, his cheerfulness beginning to grate on Priss's nerves. "And from the way she's heaping verbal abuse on me the last several hours, she's on her way to a full recovery."  
  
"You two get Priss," Sylia commanded. "I need to talk to Mr. McNichols here for a couple of minutes."  
  
Priss heard two sets of footsteps approached the van. The sliding door open, and cold air flooded the van. Priss was grateful for the borrowed clothes she was wearing as she sat up. The two familiar outlines of Linna and Nene's hardsuits stood there. The Red/Blue Knight Saber waved at Priss. "Miss us?"  
  
"Stop that!" hissed Linna, motioning towards Leon. She looked down at the mangled hardsuit. "You grab the box, and I'll get Priss."  
  
"Right!"  
  
After Nene removed the box from the van, Linna helped Priss out, and supported her while the singer stood on unsteady legs. Placing her friend's unbroken arm over her shoulder, Linna guided Priss towards the truck. As the two of them slowly made their way, Priss listened to Leon and Sylia's conversation.  
  
"Here's a copy of Priss's medical report, for your own medical people. As I said, she'll recover nicely."  
  
"And how many people know about Priss's identity?" Even with the distortion of the hardsuit's speakers, Sylia's voice was cool.  
  
"Greg Mallory, Jeena, and myself. Even the Doctor who treated her doesn't know her name. I've known her identity for upwards of two years now, and the other two figured it out on their own. And before you ask, I have no idea who Mallory talked to at lunch regarding Priss."  
  
"If you've known Priss's identity for two years, why haven't you acted? We're vigilantes and mercenaries after all."  
  
Leon shrugged. "There's too many ADP officers, including me and Daley, who owe you our lives. The ADP can't do the job anymore without tripping over rules and regulations that strangle us."  
  
"Us?" Sylia sounded amused. "You're on vacation from the ADP, remember?"  
  
Before Leon could answer, Priss called out in a husky voice, "Hey, Leon!"  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
Priss motioned Linna to stop. "Come here," she said.  
  
Leon ambled over, missing the tone of her voice. "Forget something?" he asked, standing next to her.  
  
"Yeah," Priss growled. "This." She moved her free arm from around the Green hardsuit's shoulders and grabbed Leon by his shirt. Before he could react, she pulled him in close and kissed him. After several seconds of struggle, Leon closed his eyes and gave in.  
  
"Excuse me?" said the white Knight Saber. She strode over and tapped Leon on the shoulder. Leon opened an eye and stared at her, unable to speak with Priss kissing him. Next to Priss, Linna stared at the two of them, not certain what to do next. Finally, Sylia reached in between the two of them and separated them. "You two can express yourselves to each other later," she said cooly, her helmet hiding the smile on her face.  
  
Looking a little stunned, Leon asked, "What did I do to deserve that?"  
  
Priss, looking satisfied, replied, "You save my life twice last night, or don't you remember?"  
  
"Yea, but -"  
  
"But nothing. You deserved it."  
  
Sylia expected Leon to puff himself and act like he usually did when he was hitting on Priss, as 'God's gift to women'.  
  
But he didn't.  
  
Instead, to Sylia's surprise, Leon just nodded as he touched his lips gently with the tips of his fingers. "You're welcome. Just try to be careful next time, all right? I don't have any friends to spare." He turned to Sylia. "Just make sure she follows the doctor's orders, OK?"  
  
"I will."  
  
"Don't I have a say in this?" asked Priss, her face a mass of conflicting emotions.  
  
"No," said Leon and Sylia at the same instant.  
  
They looked at each other in astonishment. Finally Leon shrugged and started to walk back to the van. "She's your team member, White," he said, looking over his shoulder at Sylia. "Keep her out of the way until she heals, OK?"  
  
Priss fended off Linna's attempt to lead her away. "I'm all right," she snapped. "A couple of hours sleep, and I be fine."  
  
Leon stopped and turned to look at her. He snorted. "Remember what the Doc told you," he called out to Priss, his tone serious. "You had two more days of rest ahead of you, and if I hear about or see the blue Knight Saber during that time, I will hunt you down and tie you to your bed. Is that clear?"  
  
Priss smiled. "I didn't know you were into bondage," she purred loudly.  
  
"I'm not!" he snapped, his face becoming slightly red.  
  
"Does Daley know about this?" she continued, ignoring his denial.  
  
Leon's denial was on his lips, but before he could respond, Sylia spoke. "She'll stay in bed."  
  
Priss looked at her leader. "Spoilsport."  
  
"You can continue this banter later," said Sylia firmly. "I want to get you out of this cold and double check your injuries." She motioned to Linna. "Get her into the van."  
  
With Nene's help, Linna guided Priss into the van. Mackie had prepared one of the fold down cots, and with his help, the other Knight Sabers eased Priss onto it. A minute later, Sylia boarded the van, and closed the door. She removed her helmet and glanced at Mackie. "Get us out of here."  
  
Mackie nodded and disappeared into the driver's compartment. The low hum of the truck's engine filled the interior. Linna and Nene removed their helmets and sat down, while Sylia examined Priss's bandaged ribs. Priss just lay there, a satisfied smile on his face.  
  
"How are you feeling?" asked Sylia.  
  
"Better then I did last night," Priss replied, still smiling.  
  
"We could see that," said Linna, a large grin on her face. "After that kiss you gave Leon, he looked like he'd been poleaxed."  
  
"I know. That's why I did it."  
  
Nene managed to look confused. "Did I miss something?" she asked.  
  
"Talk to Mackie about it," said Linna, still looking amused. "He can explain it to you."  
  
 ***********  
  
MegaTokyo General Hospital  
Saturday, December 22, 2035  
4:15pm  
  
** Doctor Kensaku Fukamizu was tired. He was fifteen hours into a twenty-four-hour shift in the emergency room, and they had been busy for almost the entire time. Four stabbings, seven gunshot wounds, three serious highway accidents, and a suicide who hadn't quite managed to kill himself when he jumped. Two of his patients died as he tried to save them, while the jumper was now clinging to life with more energy then he'd shown before he jumped. In short, a typical day in the emergency room.  
  
He stood at the central nurse's station, jotting down a note on the jumper's record. Most of the man's bones were broken, but there was not enough damage to finish the job he'd started. _What a waste_ , he thought. _The damm fool's too young to be wanted to end it all._ He glanced down at the patient's age. _Hell, he's two years younger then me.  
  
_ _There but the grace of God go I._ He shuddered as he tried to suppress the memories. It didn't work.  
  
He remembered the Earthquake that made him an orphan at age fifteen. Six months later, he'd been part of a gang, one of many to form as the population and government tried to recover from the disaster that had leveled most of the city. For eighteen months, the gang had ruled a twelve-block area with more authority then the city did.  
  
Then, _HE_ came back.  
  
Skeeter Karns had been a legend among the gangs as the biggest pack leader in the district before he'd suddenly disappeared ten years  
before. His sudden reappearance had shocked the district, and he'd move quickly in reestablishing his position as the most powerful gang leader.  
  
Fukamizu remembered when HE came into the gang's headquarters. Towering over even the tallest gang member by a full head, Skeeter  
had made them a generous offer to have them join his growing alliance of Gangs. The fact there was more then a hint of menace in HIS voice, a core of steel behind velvet words, was the deciding factor. It had taken the gang less then ten minutes to decide to join the new alliance.  
  
Once part of the alliance, Fukamizu found himself back in school, along with half the gang members in the district, under the instruction of Skeeter himself. A combination of Skeeter's immense size and penetrating intelligence worked wonders on the reluctant students, including Fukamizu. In less then a year, Fukamizu had made up the schooling he'd lost. Another six months, and he was ahead of the others in schoolwork.  
  
He could still remember the impassive look on Skeeter's face when the giant asked Fukamizu what the young man wanted to do with his life. A doctor, he'd told Skeeter, like his own father had been. The giant merely nodded, and told Fukamizu to continue studying. When Fukamizu turned eighteen, Skeeter secured him a spot in the exam for the leading medical school. Fukamizu passed the exam easily.  
  
The next six years passed quickly, as Fukamizu worked hard to learn everything he could about being a Doctor. Skeeter had told him not to worry about the finances, just worry about passing his classes. Fukamizu did so, graduating third in his class. Given a choice of any hospital in the country, Fukamizu had decided to stay close to home by choosing MegaToyko General for his residency. And now, nine months into his residency, he faced the results of what other, less fortunate, people had chosen to do with their lives.  
  
As he finished scribbling the entry into the jumper's record, he half listened to a couple of nurses in conversation behind the  
counter of the nurse's station.  
  
"So what did he say?" asked Senior Nurse Ishida, a short, moon faced woman who was well respected by the doctors and other nursing staff. Part den mother, part drill sergeant, she ran the emergency room with the precision and order needed. He only failing was that she was a bit of a gossip.  
  
"He wanted to have dinner with me Saturday night," replied nurse Asamizu with a giggle. Young and pretty, she'd been at the hospital for three months, and was blossoming into a first rate emergency room nurse under Ishida's tutoring. Fukamizu had been debating asking her out for the last month, but between her long list of dates and his lack of time and money, he hadn't the nerve. He continued to look at the clipboard, and continued to listen to the nurses.  
  
"And?" prompted Ishida. Just then, the phone sitting at her elbow rang. Like turning on a switch, the senior nurse went from gossiping woman to a professional in a blink of an eye. She smoothly picked up the receiver and said, "MegaToyko General, Emergency Room, Senior Nurse Ishida speaking." She listened. "Doctor Kyso!" she said in a light friendly tone. "What can I do for you?...Doctor Suwa? I don't know. Could you hold a minute?" She depressed the hold button on the phone, and dialed a three-digit number, which meant she was calling somewhere else in the hospital.  
  
After a few seconds, she started speaking. "Yoko? This is Kumi, down in the emergency room. Is Doctor Suwa in?...Oh. When did he  
leave?...How long?...All right...Thanks, Yoko."  
  
She returned to her first caller. "I'm sorry, Doctor Kyso, but Doctor Suwa left three hours ago to attend a conference in Hawaii . . . He won't be back until next week . . . Is it an emergency? .......I see. Why not bring her in?..........That serious?.. .....Well, you could try Doctor Natorn over at Juban General....Are you sure?....Thank you Doctor, I just wish I could been of more help...Good-bye." She hung the handset back in it place and looked at Asamizu. "Now that's strange."  
  
Asamizu looked puzzled. "What?"  
  
"That was Doctor Kyso."  
  
"I never heard of him."  
  
"Doctor Kyso is a she. She worked here until about five years ago. One of the large Megacorps hired her as staff doctor, and I  
hadn't heard anything from her since. Then out of the blue she calls asking for Doctor Suwa."  
  
Fukamizu racked his brain, trying to remember Suwa. Didn't he specialize in circulatory problems or something like that?  
  
"I don't recall Doctor Suwa," said Asamizu.  
  
You wouldn't," replied Ishida. "He specializes in blood disorders."  
  
"Oh. So what did Doctor Kyso want with Doctor Suwa?"  
  
"She said she had a critical case. One of her bosses' kids cut herself badly, lost a lot of blood, and she needs a transfusion ASAP. The problem is, the patient has an abnormal Hemoglobin condition, and can't receive regular blood transfusion. She also too weak to move to  
the hospital."  
  
"That's horrible!"  
  
Ishida nodded. "I just hope Gulf and Bradley are paying Doctor Kyso plenty of money, because if she screws up, she's going to need every yen she can get her hands on."  
  
Fukamizu nearly dropped the clipboard in surprise. Gulf and Bradley? He put the clipboard down on the counter and reached into his pant's pocket. His hands found the paper, right where he had left it. He pulled it out slowly, unfolded it and stared at the words written there. It was a hand written note he'd found in his locker when he'd come on duty. He had no idea how it'd gotten there, but he had no doubt who had written it. Skeeter didn't ask for anything unless it was important. The note read:  
  
Keep an ear out for anything involving Gulf and  
Bradley, and report it at once.  
  
Skeeter  
  
He folded the paper and thrust it back into his pocket. He had to find a phone.  
  
"Doctor Fukamizu?" said a voice. Fukamizu jumped, startled by the voice. Nurse Asamizu was leaning on the counter, staring at him with a smile. Behind her, Ishida was typing something into the computer, but she was also smiling.  
  
"Er . . . .Yes, Nurse?" Fukamizu asked quickly.  
  
Asamizu continued to smile. "Is everything all right? You seemed preoccupied."  
  
"Yes . . . e . . . .I just remember I have to make a phone call." Something inside him broke free in his confusion. "Are you free Saturday?" he blurted out.  
  
"Why, yes I am," purred Asamizu. "Seven o'clock, my place."  
  
She giggled at the strange expression on his face. She scrawled an address on a slip of paper and handed to him. "Don't be late."  
  
"Of course not! I...er...need to make a phone call. Excuse me . . . " He turned and walked away, a somewhat silly-looking grin on his face. But his mind was focused on getting word to Skeeter about this development involving Gulf and Bradley.  
  
 ************  
  
Warehouse #41526584  
District 4  
MegaTokyo, Japan  
Saturday, December 22, 2035  
5:44pm  
  
** The warehouse was alive with activity. Techs were now in the process of refueling and rearming the two surviving Rattlesnakes. The last of the hardsuits had been repaired, and was on line. The Knights not actively involved in tech work were resting quietly, getting ready for the night's activities.  
  
Greg Mallory was not resting. He sat at a small table near the office, still dressed in the suit he'd worn to the lunch with Sylia. In front of him, a small pile of papers sat in an untidy pile. He scowled at Marla. "Anything else I should know about?" he asked in mock seriousness.  
  
"No, Sir," replied the red headed woman. "Anything else can be delayed until tomorrow."  
  
"Good. What about the items for tonight?"  
  
"The flowers will be in the limo, as will the champaign. Your suit for tonight is waiting for you back at the office."  
  
"Excellent. You'll make someone a fine wife someday."  
  
Marla arched an eyebrow. "Just don't tell Gary," she said, a smile playing at her lips. "I've almost have him trained right."  
  
Mallory chuckled. "I won't." He grew serious again. "I hope I didn't screw up Gary and your plans for Christmas too much."  
  
"He understands."  
  
"Once we get home, You'll get an extra week of vacation time. Fair enough?"  
  
Before Marla could answer, Greg saw Leon standing nearby. "Leon!" he called out.  
  
Leon strode over quickly. "Yes?" he asked.  
  
"Our guest made it back to her friends all right?"  
  
Leon smiled. "Yes. Her friends were waiting for us when we got there."  
  
Greg nodded. "Marla, go tell Marcus and Nicky we're leaving in five minutes." The assistant nodded and walked off. Greg waited until she was out of earshot before he said, "Any trouble?"  
  
"White Saber didn't trust me as far as she could throw me, but I think she'll hold off on killing me for now."  
  
"I don't think she'll come knocking on your door anytime soon," replied Greg dryly.  
  
Just then, Leon's cell phone buzzed. He pulled it out of its case opened it and said, "Yes?...Skeeter? How did you get this number?.......I should have know. What's up?.....In person? Why not over the phone? ......But....All right." He glanced at his watch. "Give me about an hour . . . Same place as before?...See you then."  
  
"Problem?" asked Greg.  
  
"My source," replied Leon, putting the phone back into its case. "He's turned up some more stuff on Gulf and Bradley that he thinks we need to know. He won't relay it over the phone. The meet has to in person."  
  
"Go. Do you need any backup?"  
  
Leon took a deep breath. "I'd better not. Skeeter has more then enough firepower to slice apart anything you could send, and if I show up with unfamiliar guns backing me up, he'd never trust me again." He thought for a second. "I will take Jeena along. Skeeter knows her, and she can be charming when she needs to be."  
  
Greg nodded slowly. "Good luck."  
  
Leon smiled. "Thanks. I better get going then." He turned and jogged towards the exit. Greg watched him leave the stood up slowly. _Now, if only my dinner with Quincy was going to be that easy...  
_  



	27. Chapter 27

========================================================= ==  
  
 **Chapter 27  
  
Sylia's Apartment  
Saturday, December 22, 2035  
6:54pm  
  
** Sylia stood in her bedroom, looking at herself in the mirror with a critical eye. The dress she'd chosen to wear for tonight was a black, ankle-length, off-the-shoulder design with a modest neckline. Her hair was done up in a simple, yet elegant design. Her makeup was similarly simple, highlighting her features without overdoing it.  
  
 _Why did I agree to this?_ she thought. _Why did I agree to have dinner with a man I haven't seen in thirteen years, and in GENOM Tower to boot?_ She couldn't find an answer.  
  
There was a knock at the bedroom door. "Sis?" asked Mackie. "You decent?"  
  
"Come on in."  
  
Mackie opened the door. His eyes widened as he looked at her. "Oh wow," he said  
  
Sylia smiled at him. "I'll take that as a complement," she said dryly. "Is Greg here yet?"  
  
"No."  
  
"How's Priss?"  
  
"Sleeping."  
  
Sylia saw the unease in her brother's eyes. "You still don't trust Greg, do you?"  
  
Mackie managed to look startled for a second, then calmed himself. "I don't."  
  
Sylia nodded. "If it's any comfort, neither do I. Not completely."  
  
"They why are you going?"  
  
"I'm not sure."  
  
Mackie didn't try to hide his expression this time. "Not sure? This isn't like you, Sis."  
  
"I know."  
  
"You're not falling for Greg, are you?"  
  
"I don't know."  
  
Mackie ran his fingers through his hair. "I'm worried about you, Sis. You NEVER do anything without being completely sure about the  
consequences."  
  
"I know." She stopped, her thoughts uncertain. She looked into the mirror again.  
  
Just then, there was a buzz from the security panel, indicating there was someone at the private entrance at the street level. Mackie glanced in the direction of the panel, his own expression uncertain. "If that's Greg, should I let him in?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
Mackie left, shaking his head slowly. Sylia could hear him walk over to the panel, but not what he said into the speaker. She frowned, looking for something out of place, or just plain wrong in her reflection, but she couldn't find anything. _Why are you doing this?_ she asked herself. _Tell him you're sick, or you've changed your mind, or something_ -  
  
 _Or what?_ asked another part of her mind, a part that she rarely heard from. _Are you scared that you're falling for Greg?  
  
_ There. She had finally said it. She replayed the afternoon's conversation in her mind, looking for something to either prove or disprove the question. She knew he'd found her attractive, but did how she find him? No answer came, and that worried her.  
  
"Sis?"  
  
Sylia blinked. She turned slowly to look at Mackie. "I-I'm all right," she said slowly, hoping she wasn't transparent with the lie.  
  
If Mackie saw through the falsehood, he didn't show it. "That was Greg Mallory. He's on his way up."  
  
"Thank you. I'll be out in a minute."  
  
Mackie turned and closed the door behind him. Sylia continued to stare at her reflection.  
  
 ************  
  
Ri-san Bar  
District 6  
Saturday, December 22, 2035  
7:04pm  
  
** The bar was packed when Leon and Jeena entered. The noise level was muted, mostly voices with music. The smoke was thick and cloying, drifting slowly in the slight breeze that came in with the pair of ex-ADP officers. They got a few hostile glares, but no one challenged them openly.  
  
Jeena looked around, her expression one of amusement. "I see Skeeter hasn't change the decor since the last time I was here."  
  
"He prefers to spend money on other things," said Leon. He spotted the large form of Skeeter sitting at a table in the corner. There was no one else standing or sitting near the table. Leon tapped his partner on the shoulder, and pointed in Skeeter's direction.  
  
Without another word, the two walked towards Skeeter's table, threading their way through the crowd. The stares they got were still hostile, but no one challenged them until they reached Skeeter's table.  
  
As they made their way clear of the patrons, a short, dirty, rat-faced man with lanky dark hair stepped in front of Leon and Jeena two meters from the table. "What do you want, ADP man?" he hissed at Leon, his voice sounding like an out-of-tune penny whistle.  
  
"Nice to see you again, Rodent," said Jeena calmly. "How's the sewers treating you?"  
  
"One Arm," Rodent hissed at her, his leer unmistakable. "Still looking for a good man?"  
  
The look she gave him in return was cold. "You know I don't date outside my species."  
  
"That's not what I've heard."  
  
"Rodent," said Skeeter, his voice low and hard. "They are my guests, here at my invitation. Leave us alone."  
  
"Yes, Mister Skeeter." Rodent managed to look fearful before he scampered off into the crowd, the snarls and cures from the patrons  
marking his trail.  
  
Leon shook his head. He walked over and sat down in the chair across from Skeeter. Jeena followed suit, sitting on Leon's left and  
placing her chair so she could see the rest of the crowd. Skeeter leaned forward and looked at them.  
  
"Do you really have to deal with Rodent?" asked Leon in a resigned tone. "I wouldn't trust him as far as I could throw him."  
  
Skeeter shrugged. "He and his people do have their uses. No one knows the sewer system as well as they do, and occasionally they find  
something I can use. Despite his appearances, he's a rather mild sort of fellow."  
  
"Except for the bathing department," replied Jeena, waving a hand in front of her face. "Couldn't you have hosed him down before you let  
him in?"  
  
"He was doing something important for me, something that you might need to know."  
  
"Spill it," said Leon. "What do you have?"  
  
"One of my people overheard a part of a conversation that indicates Gulf and Bradley Japan is desperately looking for a specialist in Blood disorders. The story goes that one of the senior management's children had an accident and has lost a lot of blood. To complicate matters,  
the girl has an abnormal Hemoglobin condition, so she can't receive a regular blood transfusion. My source also said she was supposedly too  
weak to move to the hospital."  
  
Leon glanced at Jeena. She nodded, pulled out a cell phone, and dialed a phone number. She turned away, allowing Leon and Skeeter to  
continue talking.  
  
"How certain are you of your source?"  
  
Skeeter managed to looked pained. "He's one of my people, Leon. I trust him the same way you trust Jeena or Daley."  
  
"Fair enough. But what does Rodent have to do with this?"  
  
"Janie can only be in one of three places: The G and B main office building, the G and B Northshore Medical Research Complex, or the Tamahomi Recreation compound over in District 9. They are the only three places in the city Gulf and Bradley - Japan that has medical facilities advanced enough to take care of such a patient."  
  
Leon nodded. "But those places are fortresses."  
  
"Exactly. Rodent was investigating underground routes, in case they are needed."  
  
Jeena turned back to the table, her face grim. "I talked to Mr. Mallory. He confirms that Janie has such a blood disorder."  
  
Leon closed his eyes. "How's he taking it?"  
  
"I just hope Quincy doesn't say anything to set him off. Our boss is VERY angry right now. We're to scoot back to base and prep  
the other for major action. You know what will happen if Janie dies...."  
  
"The war between MALCORP and Gulf & Bradley will spill out into the street," finished Leon, his own expression one of distaste.  
He looked at the giant. "Did Rodent's people find a way into those three complexes?"  
  
Skeeter face tightened slightly, but he still kept his impassive expression firmly in place. "For the medical research and recreation complexes, no problem. Rodent found a couple of ways in. But the Headquarters building is a no-go, underground. They've got the place wired with alarms and other less friendly devices. I have each location under surveillance, but there's nothing to report yet."  
  
Leon stood up. "Has Daley come by yet?"  
  
"No. Word on the street he's under the gun with that fool of an ADP chief over that disaster last night."  
  
"Call him and ask for a meet. Tell him everything you know about this situation and tell him to put all TAC teams on alert."  
  
"You want me to tell him everything?"  
  
Leon nodded. "If I know Mr. Mallory, the shit's going to hit the fan tonight, and in a big way. Tell Daley that Gulf and Bradley -  
Japan is behind the attack on the Costal Highway."  
  
"What about proof?"  
  
Jeena cut in. "We'll make sure there's enough undamaged proof lying around to convict the people behind Gulf and Bradley's actions  
in this situation."  
  
"What about MALCORP's involvement?"  
  
"MALCORP had nothing to do with the destruction of the highway."  
  
"I'll take your word for it," replied Skeeter dryly.  
  
"Keep me updated on Rodent's progress on those sewer tunnels. We may need a back door into these places."  
  
"Considered it done." Skeeter shook his head slowly. "Where do they find idiots like The ADP chief? Chief Todo was a pain in the neck,  
but at least I could respect him. Can't you loose him?"  
  
"No can do. One, I don't work for him, or the ADP, anymore. Two, if we - er, they got rid of him, the powers-that-be would bring in a  
bigger idiot who Daley will have to learn to work around all over again. This way, Daley's stuck with the devil he knows."  
  
"I see." Skeeter leaned back in his chair and looked at them. "I wish you luck. It sounds like you need it."  
  
"Thanks," replied Jeena as she stood up. "Try and keep your carcass intact, OK? Good Underworld connections are hard to come by  
these days."  
  
"I'll keep that in mind."  
  
"Be careful, Skeeter," said Leon, adjusting his jacket and looking around. "No telling what would happen if the Bradley twins  
found out you help me."  
  
"You worry about the kid, I'm big enough to take care of myself."  
  
 ************  
  
Research lab G-46  
Saaturday, December 22, 2035  
7:06pm  
  
** Mclaren wiped his forehead with a sweat-stained rag and stepped away from the table. "Activate primary power systems."  
  
The Tech standing pressed several buttons on the console, and started at the controls. "Power levels at twenty percent and rising,"  
he said, not looking up.  
  
The scientist nodded. "Keep the power build steady at four hundred." He looked at the other tech in the room. "How many does this make?"  
  
"Eight. Phil has the last four in Lab three."  
  
Mclaren looked at the Boomer lying on the table. There were several power cords snaking from portals in the machine's chest and legs, making it look like a scene from a horror movie.  
  
"You two stay here," he said. "I'm going to see how Jiro's doing with those new shield modules. If you need me before this one's ready,  
I'll be in Lab six."  
  
Mclaren strode out of the lab, and strode down the corridor, his face showing nothing of his anger. Damm Bradley and his plans! he  
thought savagely. I thought he was mad before, but this-  
  
He cut off the angry thought and strode into Lab six. Jiro Kurokawa, Mclaren's top Boomer tech, was leaning over a counter, staring at something through a set of magnifiers. He glanced up as Mclaren approached. "How's it going?" he asked in heavily accented English.  
  
Kurokawa was the closest thing to a friend Mclaren had in the complex. A quiet perfectionist, Kurokawa had quickly established himself as an important member of this underground team. He would also listen to Mclaren tirades and design ideas, then suggest a workable solution. Part of Mclaren suspected Kurokawa of being a plant by Bradley to spy on him. But most of the time, Mclaren didn't give a damm -- Kurokawa was an asset, and Carlton Bradley already knew how Mclaren felt about the CEO of G&B-Japan.  
  
Mclaren stopped several feet short of the smaller man. Before prison, he would have been condescending and arrogant to this man.  
That attitude of superiority hadn't lasted long in the prison wings. "Seven are up and functioning, while number eight is at stage two revival right now. How are the modules coming along?"  
  
Kurokawa exhaled deeply. "Not as fast as your Boomer revivals. I have five completed and ready to install in the Boomers. I can have  
three more ready by the deadline, but the parts for this module design aren't that readily available."  
  
"Get as many as you can get done before the deadline. We'll use the older modules in the other Boomers."  
  
"That's going to cut down their efficiency."  
  
"I know, but Bradley's breathing fire on this one."  
  
"That bad?"  
  
"That bad." Mclaren frowned. "Bradley told me he'd kill me himself if these Boomers weren't ready by the deadline. And that was before he got a phone call that really pissed him off."  
  
"I see your point." Kurokawa motioned to several cubes sitting on the counter. "They're ready to go. It shouldn't take more then ten  
minutes each to install them."  
  
"Fine. I'll send Phil over to pick them up."  
  
Kurokawa lifted the magnifiers off his face and placed them high on his forehead. "You're worried about what Bradley is planning."  
  
"Damm right I am," replied Mclaren, thrusting his hands deep into his lab coat. "When I first met Carlton Bradley, I figured he was just  
like his father. Arrogant, egotistical, ruthless, but smart enough to know when to back off."  
  
Kurokawa nodded. "I noticed that neither Carlton nor Cora is the shy retiring type."  
  
"Look at what we're doing here! Our group is hot wiring Boomers for mass destruction, and I'm damm certain he's declared war on  
somebody."  
  
"War? Against who?"  
  
Mclaren shrugged, "I don't know. Another Megacorp maybe? Or the Government. Hell, maybe against GENOM itself. I have no idea,  
and I'm not sure I want to know -- I just might end up dead."  
  
"Your point is taken, sir," said Kurokawa. "What about ideas WHY our leader is pursuing this dangerous course of action."  
  
"This," Mclaren waved at the shield components, "came from somewhere, and I'll bet you two months' salary that Bradley's R and D had nothing to do with this design."  
  
"No bet." The Boomer tech thought for a moment. "Do you think this shield design has something to do with our orders for tonight?"  
  
"I gave up believing in coincidences about the time they tossed me in jail. Hell, yes, that shielding design is the prize. You, me, and the  
rest of the team are standing at ground zero on this one when and if Bradley's opponents show up to retrieve the designs."  
  
"The Knight Sabers maybe?"  
  
"I hope to God not. Meeting them once was more then enough." Mclaren glanced at his watch. "It's getting late. I'd better get back to supervising the Boomer reactivations. I can pull Yates and Benton off the reactivations, if you need them."  
  
"I'll take Yates, You can hang onto Benton."  
  
"I'll have him here in five minutes."  
  
Kurokawa nodded. "That is good. With his help, I may be able to build another advanced shield generator before the deadline."  
  
"Excellent." Mclaren walked out of the lab.  
  
Kurokawa finished the circuit he was installing, then sighed deeply. He walked over to a computer that had the new shield design displayed on its screen. "And how many more deaths will you cause before you start saving them?" he softly asked the designs on the screen.  
  
**********  



	28. Chapter 28

========================================================= ==  
  
 **Chapter 28  
  
  
GENOM Tower  
Saturday, December 22, 2035  
7:52pm  
  
** Sylia waited until Greg opened the car door and extended a hand to her before she stepped out of the Limo. She looked at her escort  
for the evening. "Are you going to be all right?"  
  
She wasn't sure what was running through Greg Mallory's mind now.He had met her in the lobby of the Lady633, looking every inch a  
successful industrialist in a dark grey suit well tailored for his frame. He smiled at her when she exited the elevator, and waited until she had walked up to him before he gave her a large bouquet of roses. Sylia wasn't sure, but she thought she could see some weariness in his eyes as she approached him.  
  
"You look absolutely stunning," he told her, his smile radiant.  
  
She had merely smiled at him and made a show of smelling the roses. The flowers smelled wonderful. "Thank you," she said.  
  
Besides himself, There were three others with Greg. One was Marla Brooks-Fenton, who wore a business-type evening dress that matched her hair. She watched her boss and his date exchange greetings, a smile pulling at her lips. The other two were bodyguards, who were human and alert, alternated between watching Sylia and the lobby itself for any signs of trouble.  
  
The five of them walked outside the lobby, where four more bodyguards met them and escorted them to a trio of limos. Greg guided Sylia to the middle car, while Marla walked toward the lead car. The entire trip from the lobby to the cars was done within fifteen seconds. Once their boss was safely inside the car, the bodyguards scattered to the other cars, and the convoy moved off into the traffic.  
  
The phone had rung less then five minutes after the two of them had climbed into Greg's limo. As she listened to Greg's side of the telephone conversation, Sylia saw the CEO's face become stiff and his words sharp. He stopped talking, pressed a button to end the call, and dialed a number. His directions were short and direct. When he replaced the receiver back into its cradle, there was a look of pure anger on his face.  
  
"That was Jeena on the incoming call," said Greg in a cold voice. "It seems that their source pick up reports that one of the G&B children  
has lost a lot of blood in an accident. They can't give the child a transfusion because she has an abnormal hemoglobin condition."  
  
"Janie?"  
  
"Probably. She has the same condition this kid is suppose to have, and it's rare enough to rule out the possibility that it isn't Janie."  
  
"Do you have a location where the child is suppose to be?"  
  
"Jeena says their source has narrowed the field to three sites. I've got the Knights scrambling to cover all three, but I don't know  
if Janie's in one of them."  
  
"It could be a trap."  
  
Greg ran a hand through his hair. "It could be."  
  
Sylia looked at him carefully. "Do you want to cancel this Dinner?"  
  
"Hell, NO!" said Greg sharply, surprising Sylia with it forcefulness."Quincy already knows I'm here. He knows that I've 'hired' the Black  
Knights on a corporate contract, and he knows that I'm looking for a kidnaped girl. What he doesn't know is why."  
  
"As far as you know."  
  
"As far as I know." Some of the tension in Greg's face disappeared. "For now, We'll continue with this charade, but if the Knights do find  
Janie, We'll be out of GENOM Tower so fast, Quincy will think we're disguised Boomers."  
  
Sylia arched an eyebrow. "We?"  
  
"You don't think I'd leave you to Quincy's tender mercies while I ran off and played vigilante, do you?"  
  
"Well . . . ," said Sylia with a small smile. "Quincy is the richest man on the planet, and as far as I know, he is single...."  
  
Greg chuckled. "Assuming, of course, we're dining with the real Quincy. Half my intel people think that Quincy's actually an AI hidden in the core of GENOM Tower running the company through Boomers androids, while a third of those left think Madigan is the real head of GENOM."  
  
"What about the rest?"  
  
Greg shook his head. "Then the theories start getting weird...."  
  
They both chuckled at this, then Greg's face became serious again. "Something's going to happen tonight," he said, staring out of the tinted  
windows. "I don't know what, but I just know something is going to explode, and soon."  
  
Sylia nodded. "I can feel it too."  
  
They rode in silence for several minutes, then Sylia said, "I should thank you for returning Priss earlier."  
  
"You're welcome. How's she doing?"  
  
"She's going to be staying in my spare room for the next couple of days, where I can keep an eye on her. Mackie's keeping an eye on her for me tonight, but I don't think she'll give him any trouble." Sylia hesitated, uncertain of her next words. "She told me something after we got her back to my place, something involving you."  
  
Greg raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"  
  
"She told me about the question you ask her, the one about me being involved with anything else."  
  
"I see."  
  
"Did you ask her that question?"  
  
Greg leaned back in his seat and looked directly at Sylia. "I did."  
  
"Why?"  
  
Greg mulled over the question for several seconds before he answered. "Because you and I are very much alike. We both fight the war against Man's deepest, darkest emotions such as greed, callousness, and blind stupidity. We fight our war in the shadows behind masks and hardsuits, using your father's genius and vison to do so."  
  
"So?" replied Sylia.  
  
"So, neither one of us is involved in a relationship - we can't afford to drag an outsider into our world."  
  
Sylia arched an eyebrow. "I think I know where this is going."  
  
Greg looked amused. "Do you?"  
  
"I do. It is too early to consider a relationship, even if I was looking for someone right now."  
  
"So you're not involved?"  
  
Sylia shook her head. "As you said, We can't afford to drag an outsider into our world."  
  
Greg smiled. "I'm not looking for a quick roll in the hay, Sylia - I respect you too much for that." He leaned forward. "I find you attractive, smart, and with more sense than half of MALCORP's Board of Directors. With those qualities, I'd be a fool to let you go without trying to court you."  
  
Sylia was speechless for several seconds, her mind sorting through Greg's words. "I suppose already you have a large number of women  
chasing you now. Surely one of them would be a better choice then me?"  
  
"I don't want some woman who is only good for the bedroom and spending money. I need a life partner, not a bed warmer."  
  
"I don't believe in love at first sight."  
  
"How about second sight?" Greg leaned back, the smile gone. "I knew you were the one when I saw you at Destari's this afternoon.  
Something just clicked into place."  
  
Sylia changed her tactics. "I can't walk out on my friends or responsibilities."  
  
"I know." Greg looked out the side window. "You won't leave this city as long as GENOM stays on a course of economic domination. And neither one of us has enough friends to allow them to fade away just because we walked away. I would never ask you to leave your friends  
or your fight. But afterwards?" He looked at her, his mismatched eyes holding her gaze with no trouble. "What are your plans after GENOM has been steered away from it's intent of world conquest, assuming that ever happens?"  
  
"I don't know. I haven't thought that far ahead."  
  
"You should," Greg said gently.  
  
"I can't. If I look to the future, I may make a mistake in the present."  
  
"And if all you think about is the present, you lose your future."  
  
Sylia's eyes narrowed. "What is your future, Greg? What do you see yourself doing in ten, twenty years?"  
  
"Business-wise, or personally?"  
  
"Both."  
  
Greg took a deep breath. "For Myself, a family. MALCORP, I see an expansion into space. First Mars, then Mercury. The asteroid belt  
is an untapped source of raw materials that we can use to build exploration ships and push out even farther into the solar system."  
  
"A noble dream," replied Sylia.  
  
"A dream that is closer to reality then you think." He closed his eyes. "All the megacorps think about is the bottom line -- how much did  
we make, and was it enough? My father never thought that way, and neither do I."  
  
"An interesting theory."  
  
"Isn't it? The Greek Aristotle once said 'Life is doing things, not getting things.' It always stuck in my mind that the only difference between three billion and thirty billion is a zero, which is literary nothing."  
  
"There are not many CEOs that will agree with you on that matter."  
  
"There are not many CEOs that would be willing to rescue a fourteen-year-old who wasn't a blood relative."  
  
"I'm surprised you can think of anything else but Janie right now," said Sylia cooly.  
  
Just then, the car passed under an overpass, and the shadows rushed in to replace the light. The passed across Greg's face in rapid succession, and Sylia saw a familiar expression fit itself like a mask on his features. The same type of mask she used to hide strong emotion from her friends. _In some ways he's so much like me, it's like looking in a mirror.  
  
_ By the time the car cleared the overpass, the mask was gone, replaced by a sober look. "Janie is never far from my mind," he said carefully, "but, until we find out where she is, we can't help her. In the meantime, I have to keep up certain appearances to draw attention away from my people. I have to play more then one game in this city, each with a different set of rules. Tonight I have to play the game of corporate  
power politics with a grandmaster - Quincy." He looked out the window and smiled. "And the game for tonight has just begun."  
  
Sylia felt the car slow, then make a right hand turn. She looked out the window and saw the familiar front entrance of GENOM Tower. As the limo rolled to a stop, Greg opened the door and stepped out. He reached back in and took Sylia's hand. Once outside, they climbed the stairs to the glass doors above them.  
  
There were only eight members in Greg's party. Five were bodyguards, all human and professionals, in a tight circle around their boss and his date. The last member was Marla Brooks-Fenton, who trailed behind the couple at a respectful distance.  
  
At the top of the stairs, a well-dressed woman stood waiting for them. It took several seconds for Sylia to realize it was Kate Madigan,  
  
The GENOM executive watched then approach, her expression unreadable. She was dressed in a severe business suit that gave the impression she had just attended a funeral. She was flanked by a trio of disguised security Boomers that stood at attention. "Mr. Mallory," she said politely.  
  
"Miss Madigan," replied Greg. "I see you have fully recovered from your injuries from the Largo incident."  
  
Madigan's eyes widened slightly, but she betrayed no other signs of surprise. _Greg's intelligence network is better then I thought_ , thought Sylia. _GENOM took extreme measures to hide the Largo incident from the world.  
  
_ Sylia expected Madigan to deny she had been nearly killed, but she didn't."It was a difficult recovery," the lavender-haired woman replied slowly.  
  
"I respect your loyalty to GENOM and drive to get back to work," said Greg smoothly. He motioned to Sylia. "Have you met Miss Sylia Stingray?"  
  
Madigan shifted her gaze to Sylia. "Not in several years," she replied easily, "But I am acquainted with the daughter of the man who created the Buma." She addressed Sylia directly. "Katsuhito Stingray's legacy is still with us, Miss Stingray."  
  
"I did not know you had been injured," said Sylia in a mild tone. She ignored Madigan's statement about her father's legacy. _You've perverted my father's work. He would have never let Boomers be turned into machines of death and destruction.  
  
_ "It was an experimental Buma that malfunctioned," replied Madigan. "I've just recently returned to work." She stepped aside and otioned  
to the glass doors. "Chairman Quincy is waiting to meet you."  
  
She led then inside, the trio of security Boomers forming another circle around the MALCORP group.  
  
 **************  
  
 **Mi-Ra Teahouse  
Saturday, December 22, 2035  
8:01pm  
  
** The Mi-Ra teahouse was actually a bar located a block north of the Gulf and Bradley-Japan headquarters. It didn't quite reach the status of a high-class drinking establishment, but it was far from being a dive. It was one of the G&B employees' favorite watering holes, especially among the security personnel.  
  
Tonight was a slow night. There were about a dozen patrons in the place, mostly G&B employees. About half were standing at the bar that ran along the back wall of the establishment, while a couple of others were sitting at the tables that dotted the room.  
  
Four men sat in a booth nearest the bar. A thin man in a rumpled suit looked at the other three in turn. "It's not our fault," he muttered. "It's that witch's fault, not ours."  
  
"Give it a break, Chasen," said one of the other men, a moon-faced individual with small eyes. "We're still lucky that we still have jobs."  
  
"Yoshitoma's right," said Kanetada, the third member of the group. "Mr. Bradley could have bounced us out on the street, or worse."  
  
"I know," replied Chasen. "But if we didn't follow the orders his sister gave us, we would be in just as much shit as we're in now."  
  
Yoshitoma sighed. "Just drop it, all right? The girl made us look like idiots, but bitching about it isn't worth it. "  
  
The fourth member of the group nodded silently and sipped his beer. After several seconds, he said, "I'm not certain this entire situation has been approved by Houston."  
  
"It's not our problem," replied Kanetada. "We're paid to follow orders, not determine corporate policy."  
  
"But if the twins are working against the company?" said the fourth man "Then, the entire G&B - Japan branch is screwed."  
  
"Dannon's right," said Chasen. "Maybe we should get word to Houston."  
  
"Go over the twin's heads?" asked Yoshitoma in surprise. "Are you crazy?"  
  
"And what the twins is doing is sane?" replied Dannon quietly. "I know Jansen Bradley. He's a hard, ruthless man, but he would never  
do what the twins have been doing to that girl."  
  
"That Doctor Zin-Choon is a creep," agreed Chasen.  
  
"He's more then that," muttered Dannon. "You've haven't had to listen to the screams like I had to." He looked down at his beer. "I haven't had a good night's sleep since they brought the girl into the headquarters building."  
  
"Keeping her at the Headquarters building is a stupid idea," agreed Yoshitoma. "The Black Knights are good, and if they hit the building, we are going to be in deep shit."  
  
"The twins are sick. They should be locked up somewhere."  
  
"Don't let Ozu hear you say that," said Kanetada in a low voice. "Or you'll find yourself guarding icebergs in the Antarctic."  
  
"If I could sleep at night, it'll be worth it."  
  
Chasen glanced at his watch. "We'd better wrap it up. Me and Dannon are on duty at nine."  
  
"Duty?" asked Kanetada. "You just got off at five."  
  
"Ozu doubling the guard around the girl. Word is we're getting Boomers to augment the guard on top of that. They can have the fun  
of dealing with the Black Knights when and if they show up."  
  
"I hate those tin men."  
  
"They're not on my friends' list, but I rather have them with me then against me." Chasen stood, followed by Dannon. The other two followed reluctantly and the four of them walked out into the cool night.  
  
Ten minutes after the four left, a sandy-haired man in a untidied suit who had been standing at the bar slipped into the booth with a glass of beer. He sat there for ten minutes, slowly sipping his beer and staring at the table, apparently in deep thought. Then, with a flourish, he finished the beer and slipped out of the booth. He waved to the bartender and walked out into the night.  
  
Fargo didn't take the miniature vocal recorder out of his pocket until he reached his car. He placed it on the seat next to him and started the car. Once he got the car moving, he switched the recorder to playback mode and listened to the entire conversation. Once the conversation had ended, he turned off the recorder and smiled grimly.  
  
He hadn't expected to hit paydirt this early in the operation, but he wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth. The four G&B security men were regulars at the Mi-Ra Teahouse, and the booth was their regular table. Fargo had made a point of becoming a semi-regular at the bar, in order to bug the booth. Over the last couple of years, they had been a regular, if unknowing, source of information for Fargo regarding G&B-Japan. If anyone was going to know where the VanDell was being held, it would be these four. And now he had the information.  
  
He glanced in his rear-view mirror to check for any possible tales. None of the cars seemed to be following him, but he decided to take a roundabout route to his bolthole. No sense taking chances unnecessarily.  
  
**********  
  
 **GENOM Tower  
Saturday, December 22, 2035  
8:22pm**  
  
They rode the elevator up in silence. Sylia held onto Greg's arm tightly, dividing her attention between Greg and Madigan. Greg tried to look relaxed, but Sylia could feel the tension in his arm. Madigan ignored them both and watched the indicator as the elevator rose at a steady rate. No one spoke during the trip up.  
  
When the elevator reached the three hundredth floor, the elevator stopped. As the door opened, two of Mallory's bodyguards, ccompanied by one of the boomers, moved out into the hall. After several seconds, the rest of the party moved out of the elevator. Madigan led the group down the left corridor. She stopped at a set of double doors at the end of the corridor. "The Executive Dining room," she said and opened the doors.  
  
The Executive Dining room was a large, curving room on the outer ring of the tower. The far wall was made entirely of glass, which allowed the diner to have an impressive view of MegaTokyo. The other three walls of the room were paneled in a dark hardwood, with several paintings hanging in ornate frames. The floor was covered in a luxurious carpet, soft green in color, with intricate patterns of muted brown and amber woven in.  
  
There was only one table in the room, a wide and long affair that dominated the center of the room. There were six dining places set,  
one at each end and two on each side.  
  
When the group entered, the only occupant of the room turned from the window and looked at them. "Welcome to GENOM Tower, Mr. Mallory."  
  
"Thank you Chairman Quincy," replied Greg with a nod of his head. "I must say that this is a magnificent feat of construction."  
  
Quincy nodded. "Thank you." The GENOM Chairman stood ramrod-straight, dressed in a somber grey suit with tie, holding a thick cane in his hands.  
  
Sylia tightened her grip on Greg's arm. She had only met Quincy a few times over the years, but each time it had confirmed her belief that he had to be stopped. There was something . . . well, wrong with him. Not out-and-out evil like a villain from fiction, but a cold calculation that placed people's survival and moral responsibility below the continued smooth functioning of GENOM. The individual didn't matter: Only the corporation's bottom line had any meaning. It was this mentality that cost Katsuhito Stingray his life, his creations now nothing more then a way to dominate and tighten control over others. It was this mind set she fought against, a battle to cripple this belief that only the life of the corporation was important.  
  
Quincy smiled at her. "And this is Miss Stingray. I am glad you accepted my invitation. It is always an honor to have the daughter of the man who created the Boomer as my dinner guest. It has been too long since you graced us with your presence."  
  
Sylia smiled easily. "Greg's invitation was hard to refuse Chairman."  
  
"Excellent," replied the white-haired chairman with a smile. He waved towards the dining table. "Please take a seat. Miss Madigan and  
Mister Tarson will be joining us shortly. Unfortunately, Mister Faust is working on an important project and cannot attend. He sends his apologizes."  
  
"I'm sorry to hear that," said Greg smoothly. "I had hoped to meet him. I've been told he's a wizard with numbers."  
  
"It couldn't be helped," replied Quincy with a sigh. "The matter in question is serious and could have an effect on several of our long-term projects. Beyond that, I cannot say anything else."  
  
"I quite understand."  
  
With that, everyone moved towards the dining table. _What is Faust doing that's so important?_ Sylia asked herself as she sat in the chair  
Greg had pulled out for her. Let's _see, Faust is an annalist, a number man. His skill is shifting through reams of data and spotting inconstant information.  
  
_ Since before Mason, Sylia made it a point of knowing all she could about Quincy's Special assistants. Faust was one of the more unusual ones to be selected by GENOM's chairman -- everything she knew about the man indicated he was not chairman material. Yet, he was loyal to GENOM and managed to avoid most of the corporate in-fighting that occurred at the highest levels. _I would have like to have met him -- he could be dangerous if out paths crossed.  
  
_ Her train of thought was interrupted by the arrival of the first course. She sipped the soup slowly, allowing the rich flavor to wash over her tongue. She listened as the conversation started between the two rival chairmen.  
  
Quincy started. "Do you notice anything unusual about the waiters and waitresses serving dinner?" he asked between sips of soup.  
  
Greg glanced at the four servers moving around the table and frowned. His eyes narrowed. Sylia, too, watched the waiters out of the corner of her eyes. There were four of them, two men and two women, all fairly young and somewhat attractive. Each was dressed in a simple uniform White shirts and black trousers for the men, while the women wore white blouses and black, knee-length skirts. They moved with quick and easy grace as they served the rest of the soup and wine.  
  
Sylia saw the slightly dazed look on their faces and reached her conclusion a heartbeat ahead of Greg. The MALCORP CEO smiled at  
Quincy. "A new line of Boomers I see."  
  
Quincy smiled back. "Very observant. The 35-Ps are still in the testing stage, but they should be ready for the market in another nine months. I'm surprised that you recognized them as Boomers that quickly."  
  
"They are if you know what to look for. Their body language isn't quite right."  
  
"I shall pass that along to our development team."  
  
Sylia sipped her soup, realizing the opening salvo of a hidden battle had just happened. Inside, she sighed to herself. She knew this was going to happen. Quincy wanted the opportunity to size up a potential rival, as did Greg. With polite words they would test each other, looking for a weakness they could exploit at a later date. And she could do little more then sit and watch the duel.  
  
Just then, a tall, heavy set man strolled into the room. "I'm sorry I'm late sir," he said to Quincy. "The meeting with the . . . Mr. White's representative ran long."  
  
Quincy frowned. "Mr. Tarson," he said cooly, "I thought I was clear on the time the meeting had to end."  
  
"Yes Sir," replied Tarson quickly, "but the discussions had reached the point where several more minutes were enough to complete the agreement. The contract is on your desk right now, ready to sign."  
  
The GENOM chairman nodded. "Very well. You are forgiven this time. Please take your seat."  
  
Tarson moved around the table and sat across from Sylia, She watched him over the rim of her wine glass, her mind recalling what she knew about the special assistant. _Philip Tarson, age 32. One of the small group of hanger-ons and sycophants that Mason liked to keep around. After Mason's death, seems to have found a backbone and advanced up the corporate ladder, becoming part of Quincy's group of special assistants four months ago. Acts as a GENOM spokesman. He hides a cruel streak behind that smile of his. Not as smart as Mason, but he's dangerous. I'll have to be careful around him tonight_.  
  
The conversation started again, and Sylia listened, her mind filing away small items for later examination.  
  
 ************  
**  



	29. Chapter 29

==================================================== =============  
  
 **Chapter 29  
  
MALCORP Pharmaceuticals  
District 5  
Saturday, December 22, 2035  
9:02pm  
  
** The pharmaceutical research and manufacturing center was located on the outskirts of the harbor, on a man-made peninsula that jutted out  
into Tokyo Bay. Despite being a large compound, less then two hundred people worked there, mostly chemists and specialists in research. Most  
of the grunt work, security, cleaning, and heavy moving was done by human-supervised, MALCORP-built robots. While not as sophisticated or  
flexible as Boomers, they were reliable and immune from Boomer-like rampages.  
  
Sentry Unit JF-563 was a typical MALCORP Security Robot. While it was as tall as a man, there was no chance of it being mistaken for a human. Its main body was shaped like a dodecahedron and sat on two tank-like treads which gave it some mobility. The closest thing it had to a face was a pair of cameras mounted one above the other in the upper hemisphere of the dodecahedron. A small radar antenna on top of the robot rotated slowly.  
  
Normally, JF-563 was armed with a tear gas grenade launcher, a taser launcher, and a shotgun that fired high-velocity beanbags. However, with all MALCORP's holding in the city on a Level One Red alert, the maintenance people had upgraded all the security units to lethal  
weaponry. The grenade launcher now carried flachette and HE rounds, the taser was replaced by a four-shot missile launcher, and instead of the  
shotgun, JF-563 had a 20mm rotary cannon with an extra large magazine attached.  
  
JF-563's patrol sector was perimeter six, a section of wall in the southeast corner of the complex. It was one of twenty security units  
on-station, with another twenty on standby status. A three-man team ran the security for an armored room under the administration building.  
  
JF-563 had just reported its sector all clear when an alert signal went out from security control. FJ-441 had detected something on its radar, coming in from due south low and over the water, bearing down on the complex. Immediately, Control alerted all the security units and ordered the five patrolling the southern edge of the complex, including JF-563, to move into defensive positions, then ordered five of the units  
on standby to reinforce them. The security units flashed an acknowledgment and moved into position. In less then thirty seconds, ten security robots were in place.  
  
 ************  
  
** The team inside security control was staring hard at FJ-441's radar track. The room was the size of an average bedroom, only the average bedroom isn't wall-to-wall electronics with a dais overlooking two tech stations.  
  
From his position on the dais, a square-jawed individual by the name of Starg frowned. "Any ideas, Rabbit?" he asked a young man with thick glasses and acne scars.  
  
"Negative," replied "Rabbit" Rosokawski. "Base radar isn't picking up anything."  
  
"Could be stealthed."  
  
"Then why is FJ-441's radar picking it up? It doesn't have a tenth of the power of the main system."  
  
Starg shook his head. "Higher frequency, maybe? How long do we have?"  
  
"ETA is fifty-six seconds."  
  
"Should we notify HQ?" asked the third person, a petite blonde with the unlikely name of Carlita Anderson Lopez-De la Vega.  
  
Starg frowned for a second. "Do it," he said. "This stinks to high heaven. Rabbit, bring the Primary and Secondary defensive grids on-line  
and do the same for all the security robots."  
  
"OK, chief." After several seconds, Rabbit said, "Defensives grids are active. Main Radar is getting something, still can't tell what it is."  
  
De la Vega turned to look at Starg. "We're being jammed on all channels," she said calmly.  
  
"That answers our questions, doesn't it?" Starg leaned forward in his chair. "Sound the alert and release the weapons for fire. Carlita,  
use the secondary communications networks to get through."  
  
"Weapons are free," said Rabbit. "I just hope it's not some idiot out for a joyride."  
  
"We'll find out soon enough. ETA?"  
  
"Thirty-two seconds."  
  
 ************  
  
** The unknown object flying towards the MALCORP Pharmaceuticals center wasn't some idiot out for a joyride. In fact, it wasn't just one  
object. It was a dozen Boomers, eight BU-55Cs and four BU-12Bs, in close formation. They flew just above the waves, staying below their target's main radar system. At twenty seconds to the target, the group splitting up, the 55Cs continuing toward the complex while the 12Bs veered east, towards the power plant two kilometers up the bay from the complex.  
  
 ************  
  
** "Oh, shit," breathed Rabbit as he stared at the radar screen. "I've got multiple bogies!"  
  
"What?"  
  
"I have at least ten bogies, make that twelve. Designated Group Alpha is composed of eight, heading right at us. Designated Group Beta  
of four bogies, breaking off and moving east northeast." He looked up at Starg, his face harried. "The computer has them IDed as Boomers."  
  
"ETA?"  
  
"Fifteen seconds." The sound of explosions could be heard faintly. "Defenses are now engaging."  
  
 ************  
  
** There was a very good reason why rampaging boomers did not usually attack MALCORP complexes. Under the glass and steel, it was a fortress. A well-defended fortress.  
  
Half-a-dozen compact turrets slid out of concealed emplacements and began tracking the incoming targets. The extra security robots moved into position. And still the invader closed.  
  
The turrets opened up first, the sharp cracks of the forty millimeter cannons a sudden intrusion on the night sounds. The sky was lit up as tracers vied with lasers for the right to destroy the invading Cyberdroids.  
  
The Boomers wheeled and dodged the hail of incoming fire with a quickness and ease that was uncommon. The few times one of the shells or lasers struck a boomer, something like a shimmering patch appeared and absorbed the laser or deflected the shell. The Boomers didn't bother shooting back, but continued to close in on the compound  
  
 ************  
  
** "Can you firm up that identification?" asked Starg.  
  
"Negative, chief," replied the young man. "Best bet is they're Boomers, but I'm getting a strange distortion on the radar return. I can tell you there are eight of them, heading right for us."  
  
"What about the other four?"  
  
"I lost them in the sea clutter, but their last course had them headed towards the power plant."  
  
Starg glanced over at De la Vega. "Alert the power plant."  
  
"Right."  
  
"Security robots are engaging the intruders!"  
  
 ************  
  
** The first of the 55Cs landed inside the fence. Before it could move, three of the security robots opened fire at it. Three streams of twenty  
millimeter shells sparked across the Boomer's torso and arms, but the 55C was unaffected save for a slight staggering step back. The Boomer's  
mouth opened, revealing the laser mounted there.  
  
GH-856 was the first security robot to be destroyed by the Boomer's mouth laser. The beam burned a hole through the robot's armor and melted everything in its path. GH-856 exploded, scattering pieces of itself across the defending robots and attacking Boomers.  
  
By now, several more Boomers had landed and were now moving forward to attack the robots. Several more Security robots exploded,  
illuminating the battlefield with a ghastly light. All of the 55Cs had landed by now, and they continued to attack the security robots with the single mindedness that only a Boomer can match.  
  
The security robots switched attack plans and opened fire with missiles and grenades as they slowly retreated. One of the lead Boomers  
shuddered under the attack, then the forceshield collapsed under the strain. After that, the Boomer lasted less then thirty seconds as it died under the combined firepower of three MALCORP robots.  
  
But it was too little, too late. The Boomer attackers surged forward, breaking the robotic defense perimeter. Once through, the Boomers scattered throughout the complex. Three of the rampaging Boomers ripped their way into labs and offices, destroying years of experiments and research in a matter of minutes. A couple of the Cyberdroids tried to force their way into the reinforced bunker where most of the night shift was hidden, but the walls were too thick even for Boomers to blast through. After one Boomer fell to a vicious crossfire that overwhelmed its shield, the other one retreated and joined the trio wreaking the labs. The last two swept through the complex, killing any of the luckless employees or security drones they came across. And the only thing the three security officers could do is direct the crumbling defenses and prey that someone would come to their help.  
  
Just then, the power station erupted with several explosions, as the quartet of BU-12's reached, then rampaged through, the poorly defended complex. Transformers exploded as they were struck with 46mm anti armor shells. In a matter of minutes, several major trunk lines had been ripped apart, plunging large sections of districts Five and Seven into darkness.  
  
Satisfied that their mission had been completed, the four 12's launched themselves towards the pharmaceutical research and manufacturing center. In a matter of minutes, they had joined up with the surviving 55Cs and expanded the devastation. An ADP response team was dispatched, only to run into a pair of 55C's near the front gate of the complex and savagely mauled.  
  
It was a night for death and destruction.  
  
 ************  
  
GENOM Tower  
Saturday, December 22, 2035  
9:32pm  
  
** Sylia watched as Greg and Quincy verbally jousted over an excellent meal. At least she thought it was excellent she hadn't bothered to  
really taste the meal. Instead, she cautiously listened to the conversation, filing everything that was said away in her memory for later analysis. Across the table from her, she noticed that Marla was doing the same thing, leaving a sullen Tarson to his own thoughts. A quick glance over the very quiet Madigan told Sylia that lavender-haired exec was also carefully watching the two CEOs go at it.  
  
Quincy had opened by asking about Greg's mother and her health. Greg's reply had been on the surface, polite and friendly, but Sylia read in Greg's tone of voice the message: _I know about the fail-safe on the satellites and as long as my mother doesn't die in an 'accident', GENOM stays alive.  
  
_ Quincy's response also had a subtle message in the polite words: _I don't care about your mother, she is no threat to GENOM_.  
  
From there, the conversation moved into less threatening, but just as dangerous areas. Quincy offered Greg the chance to ally MALCORP with GENOM on several different projects. Greg turned down most of them right away, but took two under, what Greg called, "Serious consideration," and promised to get back to Quincy on them in a week or two.  
  
The other members of the dinner party listen for the most part, adding their voice to the conversation only when one of the two main combatants addressed them directly. Sylia kept her answers short and to the point when the conversation turned her way. Both Madigan and Brooks-Fenton were even more terse with their responses. Tarson managed not to ramble on much, but he didn't say anything worth remembering.  
  
"How long has it been since you were in MegaTokyo?" asked Quincy, finishing the last of his main course.  
  
"About twelve or thirteen years," replied Greg carefully. "The changes the quake rendered have been startling."  
  
"Very much so," agreed Quincy. "But in this case, the change has been good. In a short time, this city has become the most important city  
on the planet. People from across the world come here because this city is an example of the future."  
  
"On the contrary, I think people only come because GENOM is headquartered here."  
  
Quincy raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"  
  
Greg took a second to sip from his teacup. His eyes flickered to Sylia, then back onto the GENOM chairman. "Power is a funny thing," he said, his voice low and pleasant. "Some people shy away from it, while others embrace the feeling that it gives them. Still others crave it, like a drug they never have enough of it."  
  
"And what does this have to do with GENOM?"  
  
"Power has another funny effect: Wherever there's enough power, people gather around it, like moths to a fire. Some are happy with a small amount and go away, while others want more and more until they either have it all, or they are consumed by it."  
  
Quincy looked amused. "Are you saying that GENOM hires power-hungry people?"  
  
"There's nothing wrong with hiring such people as long as you know what you're getting: Someone who will work with you as long as their  
goals are the same as yours. Once those goals become different, then you have a problem."  
  
"A fair statement. I have known people such as you have described." The GENOM chairman leaned forward. "They do have their uses."  
  
Greg took another sip. "True."  
  
 _What are you playing at?_ thought Sylia. _Why this dance about power?  
  
_ Greg put his teacup down. "Sometimes, people allow power to cloud their judgement. They begin to feel they're above the law, and nothing applies to them but their own ego."  
  
Sylia saw a flicker of puzzlement on Quincy's face, but it was gone quickly. "Would you care to give an example?"  
  
"Carlton and Cora Bradley."  
  
There was silence in the room for five seconds, then ten. Sylia glanced at Greg, who sat there, hands interlaced in front of him, looking impassive. A quick glance at the GENOM CEO told her Quincy was thinking over Greg's words. Finally he smiled slightly. "Would you care  
to elaborate?"  
  
"It's well know that they blame you for their father's death."  
  
"GENOM had nothing to do with that assassination."  
  
"I never said it did. But who the real culprits are doesn't matter to them. What matters is they blame GENOM, and you, for Carson Bradley's death. Do you think Janson Bradley sent them out here merely to get rid of them? He sent them here so they could carry out their revenge' without dragging the entire Gulf and Bradley corporation into it."  
  
Quincy smiled slowly, like a tiger sighting prey. "They are nothing more then minor irritants, like most of the others that GENOM has to  
deal with."  
  
Greg shrugged. "True, but these 'minor irritants' have already cost MALCORP several million dollars so far, and I suspect they'll cost GENOM even more in the future."  
  
"Would it have to do with the kidnaping of Janie VanDell?" asked Quincy in a smooth amused tone. "And the death of Doctor Nathan  
VanDell?"  
  
Sylia looked at Greg, searching for a sign of surprise or worry, but there was none. "My complements on your intelligence people," replied  
Greg with a half smile. "Of course, GENOM wouldn't have stayed on top for as long as it has if it wasn't well informed."  
  
"My sources say that the VanDell girl has plans in her head for a revolutionary new force shield generator."  
  
There was silence in the room for several seconds. Sylia glanced around the table, gauging the others' response to the chairman's statement. Both Tarson and Madigan straighten in their chairs at the chairman's words, somewhat surprised at their leader's tactics. Marla frowned slightly, but it was quickly replaced by an imperturbable expression. Sylia herself choked down a feeling of panic, allowing her face to keep an expression of puzzlement.  
  
Greg, however, kept a look of quiet composure. "Not exactly correct," he responded. "One of the MALCORP recovery teams discovered an undamaged computer core in the ruins of Doctor VanDell's lab. We think the Doctor kept his force shield notes separate from his other projects - notes that Janie never saw, and has no personal knowledge of. We think the twins were behind the kidnaping in order to secure the force shield plans so they could use it against GENOM."  
  
Quincy steepled his fingers. "I see. What about your plans for the force-shield?"  
  
"I have no idea at his time. Assuming the notes are on the computer core, and there's no guarantee of that, I have no idea how far along Doctor VanDell was when he died."  
  
Sylia's mind raced frantically as she tried to understand Greg's tactic. _Why don't you just give him the plans right now?_ None of this was making any sense. Greg had to be planning something, but what?  
  
"So," said Quincy with a look of slight curiosity on his face, "if the VanDell girl doesn't have the plans in her memory, why try so hard to get her back?"  
  
Sylia glanced at Greg, looking for any signs of anger or other hard emotion, but all she saw was a narrowing of his eyes. "The problem with  
power is there is a responsibility that comes along with it. Janie is my goddaughter, and thus is family. There are a very few things I hold to be more important then my Corporation's bottom line, one of which is family itself. That I learned from my father."  
  
"Of course," replied Quincy dryly. "The late Mr. Mason made your father's position clear on that matter after he returned from the United  
States."  
  
"It's also my intension to make sure that the Bradleys are held responsible for their actions." Greg's voice became hard. "One way or another."  
  
"Emotion has no place in business," said the GENOM CEO, his voice firm and controlled.  
  
A buzzing sound interrupted Quincy. Sylia glanced over to Marla, who had stood and opened her purse. She pulled out a cell phone, checked it then said to the others, "Excuse me, I must take this call." With that, she walked over and stood near the windows.  
  
Greg glanced over, and Sylia could see that his expression has changed slightly. She allowed herself to observe the other's reactions around the dinner table. Quincy watched Greg's assistant as she spoke on the phone, his expression unreadable. Madigan was watching her bass, looking for a reaction. Tarson just stared down at his drink, ignoring everyone else.  
  
Sylia's eyes went back to Marla, and saw that her expression was grim. She murmured something into the receiver then walked over to Greg. "There is trouble, Sir," she said in a tightly controlled voice. "I think you should take this call away from the table."  
  
Greg frowned, but took the cell phone and stood. "If you will please excuse me," he said stiffly. Quincy nodded, and Greg stood up and walked away from the table. Marla handed him the cell phone.  
  
"What do you think of our new Boomer line?" asked Quincy. Sylia turned her head slowly and saw the Chairman looking at her, a small smile playing around his lips. "I would be most interested in hearing your opinion," Quincy continued, leaning back in his chair.  
  
Sylia reached out to pick up her cup of coffee. She took a sip, allowing the smooth flavor to run down her throat. "They are excellent, but aren't they a bit too menial?"  
  
Quincy cocked his head. "Menial? It's because of Boomers that the city has risen from the ashes of the earthquake that devastated it."  
  
"My father's original idea was to have boomers work at jobs that were too dangerous for humans to do, like firefighting, underwater mining, and deep space construction. They were supposed to extend mankind's reach, not supplant it. But Boomers are now a daily part of our lives, taking jobs that aren't dangerous. We're beginning to rely on them too much, and that could lead to a disaster."  
  
"Are you one that believes that Boomers have souls?"  
  
"I can't say." _To you at any rate_.  
  
Just then, Greg approached the table. "Forgive this intrusion, Chairman," he said firmly. Sylia noticed that his jaw was tight and his eyes were narrow. _Something's wrong.  
  
_ Quincy picked up on the same signs. "Is something wrong?" he asked, his voice showing some concern.  
  
"I'm afraid I must leave." Greg took a deep breath. "A band of rampaging Boomers has just attacked the MALCORP pharmaceutical research and manufacturing center. It still too early to tell, but it looks like there's severe structural damage and an unknown number of causalities."  
  
"I see, and I understand," said Quincy, rising to his feet. " Miss Madigan will escort you to the door. I hope we will meet again."  
  
"I believe we will. Until then."  
  
Quincy nodded and left the room, trailed by Tarson and a pair of Boomer bodyguards. Sylia slipped out of her seat and went over to  
Greg. "Are you all right?"  
  
"Let's get out of here first," he said in a tight voice. There was fire in his eyes, a fire that hadn't been there before. "It looks like the twins have just upped the ante."  
  
  
 **************  
  
 **MALCORP Pharmaceuticals  
Saturday, December 22, 2035  
10:22pm  
  
** Ko drove the police car past the barricades and up to the front gate of the MALCORP property. He pulled up next to a command trailer,  
stopped, turned the engine off, and nudged the man in the passenger seat. "Daily, we're here."  
  
Daley opened one eye, closed it, and mumbled, "Great, wake me up when you find something."  
  
There was a tapping at Daily's side window. The ADP Inspector opened up an eye again, glared at Detachment Commander Julian Weiss, then sighed. "I suppose he'll stay there until I get out right?"  
  
Ko glanced over at Weiss and replied, "I think so."  
  
Daily unfastened his seatbelt and climbed out of the car. "What have you got?" he asked tiredly, patting through his pockets for a cigarette.  
  
"I'd better show you first."  
  
Weiss led Daily and Ko into the grounds of the Pharmaceutical complex. Around them, Firefighters and rescue squads were going through the damaged areas, looking for survivors, while ADP troopers moved through the wreckage looking for Boomer or boomer parts.  
  
"Somewhere between eight and twelve Boomers came in from the south," said Weiss as they walked along. "They crashed through the security fence and went head-to-head with MALCORP's security robots."  
  
"Robots?" asked Ko. "They use security Robots?"  
  
Daily shrugged, finally finding the crushed cigarette box in an inside jacket pocket. "They're not as advanced as Boomers, but they are  
reliable and they don't go on rampages. MALCORP's one of the biggest manufacturer in the world of robots."  
  
They rounded a corner and found themselves on a battlefield. There were several wrecks that looked like miniature tanks scattered across  
the sloping grass. One of them was still burning while several firemen sprayed a smothering foam over it. Bits and pieces of twisted metal were  
scattered across the landscape.  
  
"I'm glad we missed this," said Ko, looking around.  
  
"We weren't that lucky," replied Weiss. "A TAC team from third Detachment responded and was mauled at the front gate."  
  
"How bad?" asked Daily  
  
"Four dead, seven injured. What's more, the survivors report the Boomers that attacked them had some sort of field that protected against  
their fire."  
  
Daily swore under his breath. "Do we recover any Boomer remains?"  
  
"No. The MALCORP people claim that none of the Boomers were destroyed in the attack, and the TAC team didn't do much better."  
  
"Who's running the Security operation here for MALCORP?"  
  
"Right now, me," said a familiar voice from behind Daily.  
  
Daily glanced over his shoulder. "Nice to see you, Jeena, though the situation sucks. How are you doing?"  
  
"I had better days." Jeena walked over to stand near Ko. "Who's the new guy?" she asked with a tired smile.  
  
Ko looked uncomfortable, but Daily ignored him. "Ko, this is Jeena Malso, who's running MALCORP's security in Japan these days. Jeena, this is Kosaku Sanemori, new guy on the block. A word of advice, Ko, she's ex-ADP, and she knows a thing or two about Boomer hunting, so don't try to impress her."  
  
Jeena smiled at Ko like a cat sizing up her next dinner. Ko went from looking uncomfortable to looking nervous. "Ko," said Daily, with a  
frown, "go with Weiss here and see of the forensic people turned up everything. I need to talk to Jeena -- alone."  
  
"Sure," replied Ko, who kept glance at the one-armed woman out of the corner of his eyes. He turned and walked away quickly, Weiss  
trailing behind him.  
  
"That was interesting," said Daily, finally pulling a cigarette from the box. "You must be losing your touch."  
  
"He's young," replied Jeena with a shrug and a smile. "If you're not using him, can I borrow him?"  
  
Daily tried to stifle a chuckle, failed and smiled. "If you give me some answers, I might consider you 'request' seriously."  
  
Jeena grew serious. "If I can without compromising MALCORP security."  
  
"Where's Leon?"  
  
"He's double checking a lead Skeeter's people uncovered. Have you talk to Skeeter yet?"  
  
"I haven't had the time. Between the Chief, the Thor strike on the Coastal Highway, and this simmering Corpwar, I haven't had more then two hours of sleep in a row."  
  
Jeena motioned with her head towards a doorway half-hidden in the shadows. "Let's talk over there. I think it's time the ADP were clued in on what the hell is going on."  
  
**********  



	30. Chapter 30

==================================================== =============  
  
 **Chapter 30**  
  
 **Sylia's Apartment  
Saturday, December 22, 2035  
10:34pm  
  
** When Sylia unlocked the door to her apartment, she half-expected Mackie to be waiting for her. But she didn't expect he'd have company.  
  
"Sylia!" cried Nene, jumping to her feet (and out of Mackie's lap, a part of Sylia's mind noted dryly). "You're home!"  
  
"Of course she's home," grumbled Priss, glaring at the redhead from her place on the couch. "She lives here, after all."  
  
"How was your night?" asked Linna with a grin. She had been standing near the windows, a glass of wine in her hands.  
  
"All of you waited up for me?" asked Sylia with a smile.  
  
"It wasn't exactly planned this way," replied Mackie with a sheepish look on his face. "I was here by myself, and --"  
  
"I got sick and tired of lying around, doing nothing," finished Priss. "So I convinced Mackie to fix me a spot on the couch so I could keep him company. Then, little miss Cyberpunk showed up with a bottle of wine --"  
  
"It wasn't like that!" whimpered Nene, her cheeks bright red. "I just thought a little wine to...er --"  
  
"To celebrate Priss' return," cut in Mackie quickly.  
  
"That's right!"  
  
Sylia smiled at the two of them, then looked at Linna. "And your excuse?"  
  
Linna grinned. "I don't have one. I just thought that it might be a good idea for us to be together tonight, just in case."  
  
Sylia place her purse on a table and unwrapped the fur stole from around her shoulders. "I suddenly feel like a sixteen-year-old just getting back from her first date." She looked at them. "I suppose the hardsuits are online and the KnightWing is gassed up and ready to go?"  
  
The others reacted. Mackie looked at the floor and said nothing, while Nene's face became even redder. Priss covered her eyes with her free arm and mumbled something that sounded to Sylia like "Mind reader." Linna exhaled slowly, looking chagrined.  
  
"I see," said Sylia, after several seconds of silence. "Which part of my evening had you worried, the date with Greg, or the dinner at GENOM Tower?"  
  
"Both," replied Mackie, still looking at the floor.  
  
"Do you think I am incapable of handling Greg Mallory?"  
  
He looked up at her. "You've been acting weird since you had lunch with him. I thought it would be a good idea to be ready, just in case."  
  
"I appreciate your concern, Mackie, but Greg isn't a villain."  
  
"But he's a sharp SOB," said Priss from the couch.  
  
"And handsome," chimed in Linna. "And rich."  
  
"How do you know that?" asked Nene.  
  
"I've seen his picture, and overheard people in the office taking about him."  
  
"I don't trust him," said Priss.  
  
"Neither do I," said Mackie. "What does he want from you?"  
  
Sylia walked over to the table next to Mackie, poured a half-glass of wine from the decanter sitting there, and picked it up. "He wants to marry me," she said softly.  
  
Mackie came flying out of his chair. "WHAT?" he screamed in disbelief. Nene looked at Sylia, her mouth slightly open in surprise. Linna looked stunned.  
  
Only Priss didn't seem astonished. She raised her arm just enough so she could look at Sylia. "What did you tell him?"  
  
Sylia sipped some of the wine before answering. "I told him I couldn't."  
  
Mackie looked relieved, and both Nene and Linna relaxed. But Priss didn't look convinced. "He's not going to take 'no' for an answer," she  
said slowly.  
  
"He didn't."  
  
"What is he going to do about it?"  
  
"He's going to wait until I say yes."  
  
"But that's insane!" said Mackie, looking hurt.  
  
"You haven't met him," said Priss, covering her eyes with her arm again. "He'll wait for years if he has to."  
  
"Priss is right," said Sylia firmly, "but enough about my night. Our evening was cut short because Boomers attacked MALCORP's Pharmaceutical research and manufacturing center."  
  
There was silence for several seconds, then Priss asked, "How's Greg taking it?"  
  
"Not well. He's mad, but he has a tight control on his temper. We've got bigger problems though. Nene?"  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"I want you to check on the whereabouts of doctors specializing in blood disorders, as well as any equipment used to treat. . . ." She stopped for a minute, went over to a small end table and wrote something down and a piece of paper. She walked over to Nene and held out the sheet to her. "I wrote the disorder down to make it easier to remember."  
  
Nene took the sheet, glanced at it and frowned. "I'll get on it right away."  
  
"I also want you to dig up all you can on the Boomer attack at the pharmaceutical research and manufacturing center."  
  
"Right!" She hurried out of the room.  
  
Sylia turned to Linna. "Help Priss to the spare bedroom, then go home. For right now, all we can do is gather enough information, and be ready for action."  
  
"Your not leaving me out of the action," said Priss with a scowl as she swung her legs over and sat up.  
  
"For right now, you rest. When the time comes, we'll see how well you are."  
  
The singer sighed. "You win," she grumbled.  
  
After Linna helped Priss out of the room, Sylia turned to Mackie. "I want you to help Nene."  
  
"All right," he said slowly, his eyes narrowing.  
  
"What's wrong?" she asked.  
  
"I don't know what Greg's plan is, but I'm not sure I like it."  
  
Sylia sat down and finished the last of the wine. She gazed into the glass, for several seconds. "Greg Mallory, in many ways, is like me," she said carefully. "The Black Knights were formed by Greg and are a secret part of MALCORP. In fact, Knight One is Greg Mallory."  
  
Mackie looked a bit stunned. "But the Hardsuits. . . ."  
  
"I wasn't the only one to get a data cassette. Remember the number mine had on it?"  
  
"Yes, number two."  
  
"Greg received data cassette number one for his sixteenth birthday."  
  
"You mean "  
  
"That the Black Knight hardsuits are Stingray-based designs, and Greg has the same type of 'enhancement' I received."  
  
Mackie sat down slowly. "Isn't this all moving too fast? I suggest "  
  
"That's why I told him I can't marry him. I don't know anything about him, and my life is here."  
  
Mackie relaxed, but there was some still skepticism in his eyes. "What do you feel for Greg?"  
  
Sylia sighed. "I don't know."  
  
"Don't know, or won't tell me?"  
  
"I really don't know. There's a part of me who's ready to say 'yes' to him right now, and another part who's telling me to run away from him  
as fast as I can."  
  
Mackie stood slowly. "Just be careful with him, OK? Maybe I'm just being a brother, but I don't want to see you hurt."  
  
Sylia smiled up at him. "I will be careful. And thank you for caring."  
  
"That's what brothers are for." He glanced at the door. "I'd better go help Nene."  
  
He had taken two steps before Sylia asked, "Mackie?"  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"Be careful with Nene, OK? I don't want to see either one of you hurt."  
  
Mackie looked embarrassed and didn't look at his sister. "I didn't think you noticed."  
  
"The signs were hard to miss."  
  
He scratched his head. "Er. . . well, I'd. . . er. . ."  
  
"Go on. If I have anything else to say about the subject, I will let you know. For now, enjoy your time together."  
  
"Right. Thanks for understanding."  
  
Sylia smiled. "That's what big sisters are for."  
  
She waited until Mackie closed the door behind him before she stood up, poured another half-glass of wine and want over to the windows. She stared out into the city below, her mind trying to sort out her feelings.  
  
 ************  
**  
 **Warehouse #41526584  
District 4  
Saturday, December 22, 2035  
10:40pm  
  
** "OK, what the hell happened?"  
  
Marcus Jackson looked up as Mallory stalked into the office. There was no sign of anger in Greg's face, but his eyes were cold and hard.  
  
"A batch of Boomers hit the MALCORP pharmaceutical research and manufacturing center about fifty minutes ago," said Marcus evenly. He shifted slightly, wishing he could sit down in the chair behind him, but the chair wouldn't support his weight plus the hardsuit he was wearing. His helmet sat next to the map he'd been studying when Greg had walked in. "They hit, tore up the place, then disappeared."  
  
"I know that much." Greg leaned forward and placed his fists on top of the desk. "How bad?"  
  
"Bad enough. At least ten dead, mostly guards and cleaning people, and three times as many in wounded. I don't think more then a third of the security robots are still functioning. If we hadn't been on a Level One Red security status, the toll would have been much higher. As it is, we probably lost at least six months' worth of experiments and research data because of this attack."  
  
"Damn," hissed Greg. "How many Boomers did we get?"  
  
"Two confirmed destroyed, and two more damaged. We've got the remains stored away and told the police all the Boomers got away. I've  
already got a team looking the remains over." Marcus waited a couple of heartbeats before he continued, "According to the data, these Boomers had some type of force shield in operation."  
  
"This stinks to high heaven," Greg looked away for a second. When he looked back at Marcus, his face was tight and cold. "What have you done, security-wise?"  
  
"We had to pull the Knights back from the G&B targets. Harland and Blue Team are on site right now. Jeena is handling the visible security,  
while Harland's team stays out of sight. I've sent White Team and a Rattlesnake to stiffen our defenses at our biological research lab. Red Team is in reserve and I've put everyone on war footing."  
  
Greg nodded. "I want to go out and look over the site of the attack."  
  
"Not a good idea, Greg. Not tonight. No telling if this attack was designed to get you out into the open."  
  
Greg looked up at the ceiling. "All right, they want to play hardball, we'll give them hardball. I want the other West Coast teams here ASAP. Use the Falcon transport, and tell them to redline it."  
  
"You want both teams?"  
  
"Yes, plus any support personnel they can find, and all the equipment they can haul."  
  
"If they're involved in operations -"  
  
"Screw the operations," replied Greg bluntly. "I want as much firepower as we can pull together, as fast as we can get it here. We're going on the offence."  
  
"Against who? We're not even sure who the enemy is!"  
  
"I have suspicions."  
  
"That's not good enough!"  
  
The look Greg gave Marcus was chilling. "I didn't start this," he said, his words cold, "but before I'm finished, those bastards will wish  
they never heard of MALCORP."  
  
"What about Janie?" Marcus' voice was sharp and bitter. "Are you willing to sacrifice her to sooth your wounded pride?"  
  
Greg glared at him for several second, then looked away. "Thanks for the reminder," he said softly.  
  
"Are you all right?"  
  
Greg waved a hand. "Too little sleep," he muttered. "This mess is getting out of hand." He closed his eyes and took several deep breaths.  
  
"Do you still want the other teams here?"  
  
Greg nodded without opening his eyes. "At the very least, they can pull guard duty while the other teams go after G&B-Japan HQ."  
  
"You want to hit G&B HQ?" Marcus looked shocked.  
  
"Not really, but I'm now convinced they're behind the kidnaping. This attack was their way of telling us to back off."  
  
"I take it were not going to back off?"  
  
"We are going on the offensive as soon as the other teams get here." Greg opened his eyes. "I want the other West coast teams to bring some  
special equipment and people with them."  
  
Marcus straightened. "What equipment?"  
  
"I want the field cryogen capsule and all necessary support equipment and staff. If the reports are right, Janie is in critical condition right now. The capsule will allow us to get her out of there with a reasonable chance of success -- it is heavily armored enough to protect her from a stray laser or bullet."  
  
"Fair enough. What about personnel?"  
  
"There's supposed be a conference on Blood disorders in Hawaii that's to start the day after Christmas. I want the West Coast teams to pick up Doctors Charles Langmeade and Imaidegawa Narumi from that conference."  
  
"Suppose they don't want to come along?"  
  
"Then kidnap them," Greg growled. "They're the top two people in the field of Janie's condition, and I need them here and now!"  
  
Marcus sighed then nodded. "I'll send the word out. Assuming the teams are free and clear, they'll be here before two A.M.."  
  
"Thanks, Marcus." Greg's head drooped, and for several seconds, the only sound in the office was the CEO's deep breathing.  
  
Marcus moved around the desk and took Greg by the arm. "It's time you got some shuteye."  
  
Greg waved him off. "I'm all right."  
  
"Bull. We pushing forty-eight hours on this mission and you haven't had more then three hours of sleep in that time."  
  
"None of the teams have had much sleep either."  
  
"They've had twice as much as you have. You can't keep pushing yourself like this, Greg. We need you rested and focused when the time comes. You're no good to anyone, especially Janie, if you're too tired to think straight."  
  
"I said I'm all right." There was iron in Greg's voice.  
  
"Bullshit," replied Marcus, his own voice hard and unyielding. "Killing yourself is not going to help Janie any. If you don't get some sleep right now, I'll hit you with a traq patch and put you under for eight hours. He tapped his chest, the soft thud of the hardsuit audible in the office. "And in this tin suit, I've got a significant advantage in strength."  
  
Greg closed his eyes. "You win." Marcus watched him walk over to the couch next to the desk and sat down.  
  
"How was your night before I called?" Marcus asked.  
  
Greg closed his eyes, out his head back, and smiled tiredly. "The Dinner was excellent, the host was polished, and the conversation simulating."  
  
"And your date?"  
  
The smile became larger. "How can I describe perfection in a few words?"  
  
"What did you do with her?"  
  
The smile disappeared. "I dropped her off at her place. I wasn't very good company on the ride home I don't think I said half a dozen words to her during the entire ride back to her place." He sighed. "I enjoyed her company."  
  
Marcus' eyes narrowed. "You sound like you've fallen for her."  
  
"Like a ton of bricks. . . ." Greg's voice died off to a mummer, and his breathing became deep and regular.  
  
"Greg?" Marcus waited half a minute, then walked carefully over to the couch, picked up a folded blanket, and looked down at his boss. "Pleasant dreams Boss," he said softly, then unfolded the blanket and draped it across the sleeping figure. He then quietly walked out of the office, careful to close the door cautiously behind him.  
  
**********  
  
 **Gulf and Bradley - Japan Headquarters  
Saturday, December 22, 2035  
11:17pm  
  
  
** ". . .Dead and another thirty injured," said the televison reporter. "To the best of our knowledge, none of the attacking Boomers was destroyed. MALCORP representatives are refusing to answer questions regarding possible bio-hazard experiments said to be ongoing here at the center. This is Faye Asayamaike, GBC news, reporting from the MALCORP pharmaceutical research and manufacturing center."  
  
Carlton Bradley touched a button and the serious looking reported disappeared from the televison screen. "Not bad," he said slowly.  
  
"They should have done more damage before they were recalled," said Cora from a chair across from her brother.  
  
"I disagree," said Carlton. "We had lost two of the Boomers, and a couple of more severely damaged. To stay any longer would have brought  
the ADP fully into the game."  
  
Cora snorted. "Those idiots? They couldn't find their ass with a map and directions!"  
  
"Even the ADP could have gotten lucky," said Hachio Ozu from his position by the window. "And MALCORP's Security chief here is ex-ADP -- She has contacts to smooth over any problems."  
  
"How do you think MALCORP will react?" asked Carlton.  
  
"Depends on how much they actually know. But I think we have a bigger problem."  
  
"What can be worse the MALCORP?" demanded Cora  
  
"The word I'm getting is that one of the Gang leaders is nosing around the company's holdings."  
  
"What's the problem? It's just some punk thinking he can rip us off for a quick score."  
  
Ozu shook his head. "Skeeter Karns isn't some punk looking to steal from us. He's the biggest gang leader in the city. Even the Yakuza and the Triads avoid pissing him off. If he's involved, then he's after Janie VanDell."  
  
Cora's bark of laughter was short and derisive. "You're getting paranoid," she told Ozu. "I don't care how big this Skeeter is, he's a nobody."  
  
"Why do you think he is a danger to us?" asked Carlton quietly.  
  
"Because he has a genius-level IQ, a hatred for people who abuse children, and frequently passes data on to the police, including Inspector Leon McNichol of the ADP."  
  
"Why do you think Skeeter would pass McNichol anything involving Janie?"  
  
Ozu looked at both of them. "Officially, McNichol is on vacation. But, my people have seen him entering a bar used by Skeeter as his headquarters twice in the last twenty-four hours, the second time with Jeena Malso."  
  
Carlton's eyes narrowed. "McNichol's working for MALCORP?"  
  
"Not necessarily. Malso and McNichol were partners when Malso was in the ADP. Malso's one of the few people outside of the ADP that McNichol would trust to guard his back."  
  
"But Malso works for MALCORP!" exclaimed Cora.  
  
"If McNichol asked her to guard his back, she would do so without hesitation."  
  
"What would you suggest?" asked Carlton in the same composed voice he'd used throughout the conversation.  
  
"We take out McNichol, Malso, and Skeeter - all at once, if possible."  
  
"That would stretch our useable resources to an unacceptable limit." Carlton's eyes narrowed. "Instead, we eliminate only one target for now,  
with the option of going after the others later. Who would you choose?"  
  
"Malso. She's the one heading the search operation."  
  
"No." Carlton waited for several seconds before he continued. "I think this Skeeter Karns should be the target. With his removal, the ADP would lose a valuable source. It would also distract the ADP and N-Police. Once word gets out that Skeeter is dead, there will be gangs ready to pick up the pieces. With G&B backing the right candidate, we can spread our influence that much more."  
  
Cora smiled hungrily. "I like it. How are we going to do it?"  
  
"We'll use the hit teams we had out after the MALCORP freelancers. Is Team One ready to go?"  
  
Ozu nodded. "That'll give us a strike force of sixteen - four Boomers and twelve humans."  
  
"Make sure the humans know that a dead Skeeter is worth five million Yen to any of them that survive."  
  
"You're not going to actually pay them, are you?" asked Cora, with a frown.  
  
Carlton smiled at his sister. "The operative words are 'to any of them that survives.' I don't expect anyone but the Boomers to make it out." He looked at Ozu. "Is that clear?"  
  
"Yes Sir. When do you want then to attack?"  
  
"As soon as possible. The more confused and distracted our enemies are, the better for us."  
  
Ozu glanced at his watch. "Give me a couple of hours, and it should be done."  
  
Carlton nodded. "Are the rest of the new security measures?"  
  
"In place."  
  
"I want you to double check everything. We've come too far to leave anything to chance."  
  
"Yes sir." Ozu left the office at a brisk walk.  
  
Cora waited until the door was closed before she asked, "Why the hit teams? Why not use the force shield-equipped Boomers?"  
  
"Several reasons," replied Carleton was he leaned back in his chair."The first is they are our hole card, in case things don't go so well. Second, they need to be repaired, upgraded, and their shield generators checked for signs of breakdowns. Third, it will cloud the issue as to who is doing what to whom."  
  
"I see." Cora stood and perched herself on the edge of Carlton's desk. "Could I ask you for one more thing, Brother dear?" she asked in a little-girl voice.  
  
"What?"  
  
"When we kill Quincy, can I have his head? I think it'll look great with my collection."  
  
Carlton looked at his sister for several seconds before he smiled at her. "Assuming there's anything left of his head, you can have it."  
  
**********  



	31. Chapter 31

========================================================= ========  
  
 **Chapter 31  
  
Sylia's Apartment  
Sunday, December 23, 2035  
12:17am  
  
** Sylia stared out into the lights of the city. She was alone, as the others had left for the evening, or had gone home. Nene and Linna had left half an hour ago, while both Priss and Mackie were sleeping in their own rooms. At least she thought they were sleeping -- she wouldn't put it past either or both to be lying there in the dark, waiting for her to retire for the evening.  
  
She looked at the empty wine glass in her hand. Greg's words drifted across her mind again: " _And if all you think about is the present,  
you lose your future."  
  
_ Was she doing that, becoming so bound up in her war against GENOM that she was losing sight of the future? And her teammates -- was she  
dragging them down with her? She turned away from the window, her thoughts ill-focused for the first time in years. She carefully placed the glass on a side table, then sat down in a padded chair and leaned back. Slowly, she closed her eyes and began sorting out her feelings and thoughts.  
  
The hood she had killed outside of Niko's pool hall. Fargo was right about him -- he would have killed her if he'd gotten the chance. Maybe  
a background check on her would-be murderer would ease her mind.  
  
 _And what about Greg?_ part of her mind asked. _Try as you might, you can't get rid of him that easily.  
  
_ She frowned. The cool analytical part of her mind hated this internal voice, the emotional part of her that rarely made its presence known to her. Most of the time, she managed to keep her softer side under firm control, letting just enough of it show through to her friends so they didn't think she was completely detached from her surroundings. But for some reason, it had broken free of her control and was now whispering to her about the future.  
  
The phone rang, starling Sylia out of her thoughts. She glanced over at the phone sitting next to the chair, the one used by Fargo. With several  
quick strides, she reached the phone. After putting down the wineglass, she picked up the phone, her hand moving surely. "Yes?" she said.  
  
/Hello, Sylia./  
  
"Fargo."  
  
Fargo's voice was smooth and businesslike. /The VanDell girl is at G&B HQ. From the sound of it, the girl is injured in some way. They've  
increased the security around the building, including bringing in Boomers. They're expecting trouble./  
  
"Anything else?"  
  
/Evidently, this is a rogue operation set up by the twins, and there's some pretty nervous talk among some of the rank and file./  
  
"Do you have any contacts inside G and B's home office?"  
  
/One or two./  
  
"Can you get word to them?"  
  
/About the twins' plans? I could, but I'm not sure that'll help./  
  
"Tell them that something bad is about to happen to the G and B - Japan headquarters that's going to give the entire corporation a black eye."  
  
/How big a black eye?/  
  
"Evidence that will point towards the twins' being involved in the destruction of the coastal highway."  
  
There was silence for a moment on Fargo's end of the line. /You're serious?/  
  
"Very. And if it comes out, Janson Bradley will be fighting off lawsuits for the next twenty years."  
  
/I see your point. I'll talk to my contact and pass along the information./  
  
"Good."  
  
/That's all for now. I'll stay in contact if something new turns up. Stay safe, Sylia./  
  
"Good-bye Fargo."  
  
She turned off the phone and looked at it for a minute. She then sat down and reached for her purse. It took her less then thirty seconds to find the card Greg had given her at lunch. She dialed the number and waited.  
  
The phone was picked up on the third ring. /Hello?/ asked an unfamiliar voice.  
  
"Is Greg there?"  
  
/He's sleeping right now. Is it important?/  
  
"Very. I need to speak to him right away. It's about Janie."  
  
/One moment./ Sylia listed to the sound of footsteps, then a door opening, followed by more footsteps, and a faint voice calling out Greg's name. A short muffled conversation followed, then she heard Greg's voice.  
  
/Hello?/ he asked in a scratchy voice.  
  
"It's me Greg. I've got information about where Janie is."  
  
Greg became fully awake. /What is it?/  
  
"Fargo found out she's in the main headquarters building of G and B, under tight security. They've brought out Boomers to stiffen the defenses."  
  
/Figures./ Sylia heard Greg speak to someone else in the room. She managed to make out the words, 'ETA', 'transport', and 'here ASAP'. After twenty seconds, Greg spoke again. /We go after her tonight. I've got extra Knights coming in that should be here by three, but you're more then welcome to come along. How about a council of war at about three-thirty?/  
  
"Sounds like a good idea. Where are you?"  
  
/Have your team at the corner of Two-Twelve and Jiro in District Four at three o'clock. I'll have a Knight there to guide you the rest of  
the way./  
  
"Very well."  
  
/Hold on a moment./ There was the sounds of muted conversation, then the faint sound of someone closing a door. /Sylia?/  
  
"You're alone?"  
  
/Yes./ There was a moment of silence. /I'm sorry about tonight. I wasn't very talkative on the way back. That was foolish of me, and I'm sorry./  
  
"There's no need to apologize. I do understand. You had a lot on your mind."  
  
/Still, I do need to apologize,/ said Greg in a soft voice. /I shouldn't have shut you out like that./  
  
Sylia was silent for several seconds, looking for the right words, but none came. "I don't think this is the time or the place to talk about . . . our relationship," she said gently.  
  
/You're right, of course./ She heard Greg take a deep breath. /But, I thought it was important that I tell you. I guess my social skills  
still need some work./  
  
Given a chance to change the subject, Sylia took it. "Speaking of social skills, what was behind that performance tonight at GENOM Tower?"  
  
/Performance?/  
  
"Telling Quincy that Janie doesn't know about the force shield plans, and that you may wave found them, in the wreckage of Doctor VanDell's lab."  
  
/The computer core that MALCORP recovered?/ There was silence for a heartbeat, then Greg said, /What I did was tell Quincy enough of  
the truth so I could slip in a lie or two. We did find an undamaged computer core, and it may have Doctor VanDell's note on it. It also may have nothing but computer gibberish on it. Those facts can and will be checked by GENOM and found to be true./  
  
"And Janie?"  
  
/There's a chance she really doesn't know about the design, but frankly, I don't give a damn about that I just want her home, safe and sound./  
  
"And you're expecting Quincy to take you at your word?"  
  
/Of course not./  
  
Sylia frowned. "Then why did you -- "  
  
/I wanted to give him a blurred impression of me./  
  
"How?"  
  
/I wanted to either think I'm a naive fool who isn't a threat to his power, or a sneaky bastard who he's going to have to keep an eye on. No matter which way he finally decides, he'll have to think about it for a time. While he's trying to figure out which one I am, GENOM will stay out of my way long enough for us to rescue Janie./  
  
Sylia blinked as she thought about it. "I see," she said finally.  
  
/It sounds worse then it actually is. Quincy didn't get to his level without carefully weighing threats and actions against each other. He's not about to change his methods./  
  
"But if he thinks you're a threat. . . ."  
  
/He'll wait until I'm more use to him dead then alive. Until then, he and I will play in the shadows./  
  
Sylia closed her eyes. "Just be careful, all right?"  
  
/I will be. All I have to do is stay out of GENOM's way as much as possible./ There was silence for several seconds, then Greg said, /I've got to go. I need to get the show going on my end, and you need to get your people together./  
  
"I know. I'll see you at three-thirty. Good-bye."  
  
/Good-bye./  
  
Sylia replaced the phone picked up the wine glass and stared at it. She reached for the wine bottle, but stopped just before her hand touched the decanter. Shaking her head slowly, she turned and walked to the kitchen.  
  
**********  
  
 **Ri-san Bar  
District 6  
Sunday, December 23, 2035  
12:51am  
  
** Despite the hour, there was a sizeable number of people still inside the bar. These were all Skeeter's people, the core of his old gang with a selected few from the other gangs. They formed the heart of the giant's effort to control the district. While a few wondered about Skeeter's methods and reason, all respected or feared the giant.  
  
Skeeter himself was sitting at a table, watching two of his lieutenants play a game of chess. The game was well into the endgame, with white  
having a slightly better position. Skeeter straightened. "Checkmate in six moves," he announced, his voice neutral in tone.  
  
"For who?" asked Chika Kamayawa, glancing up at her leader. She was tall and long legged, with a honey complexion, long raven hair held in a loose ponytail, and eyes the color of obsidian. As one of Skeeter's chief lieutenants, and head of the field units, she had earned the position by being tougher then most of her male counterparts. Her loose-fitting clothes hide a small inventory of knives and other weapons she was well skilled in.  
  
Skeeter smiled at her. "That would be telling."  
  
Kamayawa's opponent sighed. "Boss, your aptitude to perceive the situation on the chessboard is moderately disconcerting. Could you please  
not promulgate the conclusion to your verdicts until we have consummated the game?"  
  
Skeeter continued to smile as he looked at him. "I never said which side had the mate in six, Doc," he said in the same relaxed voice he used  
with Chika.  
  
Doc was almost the exact opposite of Chika. He was slightly below medium height, stocky, with a craggy face and his reddish hair was cut close to the scalp. While he could fight, his role in Skeeter's organization was more intellectual. As head weaponsmith and mechanic, he kept the organization armed and mobile. He was also known for using big words whenever he could.  
  
"In any circumstance, could you terminate your conduct incorporating the game?"  
  
Skeeter chuckled, an unusual sound that was rarely heard. "I'll think about it."  
  
Doc, use to his leader and friend's moods, looked down at the board. "Now I know why I stopped playing," he muttered.  
  
"I thought it was because I beat you on a regular basis," said Chika with a smile.  
  
Doc looked at her, frowning. "You have prevailed in precisely six games out of one hundred and four we have played over the last three years. I have triumphed in thirteen, and we have drawn the rest."  
  
Chika raised an eyebrow. "And I suppose you remember what defense I played in the twenty-seventh game?"  
  
"You played a mutation of the Queen's gambit declined, because you were playing white that game, not black."  
  
Chika looked at Skeeter. "Is he right? I don't remember the move I made ten minutes ago in this game, let alone one two years ago."  
  
Skeeter tilted his head slightly. "I must bow Doc's superior memory on that one."  
  
Doc pushed a pawn forward on the chessboard. "Exonerate me for querying, but are you anticipating trouble tonight?"  
  
"Maybe."  
  
"I don't like the sound of that," said Chika.  
  
"Nor do I," replied Doc. "Any idea who?"  
  
"Some strong suspicions. Several new faces have been hanging around our patrons. Faces with corp security stamped all over them."  
  
"Does this have anything to do with MALCORP?" asked Chika. "They've been pushing in all the wrong directions, and getting people killed."  
  
"Of course," said Doc, staring down at the chessboard. "Having Inspector McNichol around here twice in less then twenty-four hours is a somewhat of an abnormal phenomenon."  
  
"True," said the giant slowly, his smile fading. "I'll tell you what McNichol told me, and let you decide."  
  
He outlined the situation in several minutes, and after he was finished, both Chika and Doc wore the same expression of anger. "I suppose you have our people looking for VanDell?" asked Doc slowly, his big words forgotten for the moment.  
  
"Of course."  
  
"And you trust MALCORP?" hissed Chika. "I wouldn't trust any Megacorp as far as could throw this building."  
  
"Of course I don't trust MALCORP," replied Skeeter with a shrug. "But my sources say Greg Mallory is on the up-and-up."  
  
"Just how good are your sources?"  
  
Skeeter smiled again. "I trust them slightly less then I trust you and Doc."  
  
Before Chika could respond, a small box next to the chessboard beeped. Frowning, Chika tapped a button on top of the box. "Field One," she said briskly.  
  
//Outpost Baker Four,// replied a voice. //I have four bandit vehicles approaching my position.//  
  
"Any ident on them?"  
  
//Neg, Field One. They're corporate type sedans, but there's no telling what they're carrying. //  
  
Doc looked at Skeeter. "The inconvenience you were expecting?"  
  
"Possibly," replied the giant.  
  
"It could be Sato sending us a message," said Chika.  
  
"The Yakuza know better then to 'send me a message.' Sato's not that stupid, and neither are most of the others."  
  
"The Bradley twins?"  
  
"A more likely pair of suspects, but it's best not to take any chances. Chika, let's see who our guests are."  
  
The raven-haired woman nodded. She tapped another button on the box. "All units, this is Field One. We have possible hostiles approaching  
Outpost Baker Four. Units Epsilon and Kappa are to move in and set up a roadblock at Seven Ninety-Sixth Avenue and Seaview Drive. Units Mu and Tau are to provide back-up. Everyone else keep your eyes open. This could be a diversion."  
  
"How long will it take to set up the roadblock?" asked Skeeter  
  
"Three minutes, at the most. Both Sao and Johansson know what they're doing."  
  
"Does this signify the contest on the chess board is completed for the foreseeable future?" asked Doc.  
  
Skeeter nodded. "Let's step it up to ALERTCON three, and break out the heavy weapons."  
  
"You're expecting Boomers?"  
  
"I'm expecting just about anything, Doc. You and Matilda go find a good vantage point and cover the approach to the bar."  
  
The craggy-faced man smiled. "I got some new ammo for Matilda, and I know the right spot too." He stood and picked up a long gun case. "We can recommence the competition at another period," he told Chika. "I've memorized the placement." With that, he turned and swiftly strode out  
the front door.  
  
Chika shook her head. "You sure know how to pick them," she said in a low voice.  
  
Skeeter stood and stretched. "One of the keys to leadership," he replied lightly, "is knowing the right person to pick at the right time." He motioned to the now visibly armed patrons. "You'd better make sure these guys are ready and able, just in case."  
  
"Right." She stood and started issuing orders. One of the defenders handed her and Skeeter compact comm headsets. Once the headsets were in place, Chika picked up a pair of compact machine guns from a nearby table and slung them over her shoulders.  
  
Skeeter turned and picked up a shoulder holster from the table behind him and slipped it on. After he had made sure the rig was comfortable in  
place, he picked up a pair of thick leather gloves and put them on. He then drew the massive revolver from it's holster and open the cylinder, and spun it slowly.  
  
Chika turned around and stared at the large pistol. "What's that?" she asked.  
  
"Doc's newest toy," replied Skeeter as he flipped the cylinder back into place. "He calls it a World Rattler."  
  
"What's the load?"  
  
"Same caliber as the EarthShaker, but the rounds are a bit longer. Also, Doc's built is so it has a five round cylinder instead of three."  
  
Chika raised an eyebrow. "Have you fired it?"  
  
The giant nodded. "I have to use a two handed stance to hit anything with it, since Doc didn't do anything about the kickback. But any Boomer  
who gets hit is instant scrap metal."  
  
"Not to mention any dumb sap who takes a round," Chika muttered with a shiver.  
  
Just then, the box on the table said, //This is Unit Kappa. We're set up. Epsilon is moving into position now. Fifty seconds to contact.//  
  
"This is Unit Mu," said a new voice. //We're thirty seconds from the backup position, Tau is twenty seconds behind us.//  
  
Chika tapped a button on the transmitter at her belt. "No firing unless you're fired upon. Stay alert and watch yourselves. Let's try and keep this from getting out of hand before we know what's going on."  
  
Skeeter made a final adjustment to his transmitter and spoke into the mike, "All Units, this is Field Six. Outpost Baker Four, I want a running description of the stop from now until it's over on this channel. Understood?"  
  
//Yes Sir!//  
  
"What is your name, Son?"  
  
//Chosokabe, Sir!//  
  
"All right, Chosokabe., keep me informed. All Active field units, switch to channel Damocles and link up with Field One on my command." Chika nodded and adjusted her headset's controls. Skeeter waited until she nodded before continuing. "Approaching cars are designated Bandit One  
through Four. Last orders before Field One assumes control. Kappa, Don't expose anyone. Hail them on a loudspeaker, but don't move in until I or Field One give you the order. Field Five, are you in place?"  
  
//Affirmative, Boss. Do you yearn for a precise venue, or will a imprecise locality do?//  
  
"As long as You and Matilda can do the job, I don't care if you're in Quincy's private office."  
  
//An implausible predicament,// replied Doc blandly. //The esteemed Chairman would not be congenial at the inspiration of us employing his  
sanctuary for a sniper's roost//  
  
Skeeter chuckled again. "But it might get a rise out of that old buzzard. Stay sharp."  
  
//Right.//  
  
"All operating units, switch to Channel Damocles in...five...four...three ...two...one...now."  
  
//Outpost Baker Four here Sir. The vehicles are approaching the roadblock.//  
  
Chika looked up at Skeeter. "Kappa's hailing them now."  
  
//The cars are slowing. . . The first car just speeded up! They're trying to ram their way through the roadblock!//  
  
There was silence for several seconds, then Chosokabe said, //Bandit One and Two have broken through the roadblock and are heading down Seven Ninety- Sixth at a high rate of speed!//  
  
"What about Bandits Three and Four?" demanded Skeeter.  
  
// Epsilon and Kappa have them pinned down. Estimate strength is six to ten guns, Assault rifle category.//  
  
"I'm moving Tau around to hit Bandits Three and Four from behind," said Chika. "Mu's intercepting Bandits One and Two."  
  
Skeeter nodded, but just then, Chosokabe shouted //SHIT!//  
  
"What's wrong?" demanded Skeeter with a growl.  
  
//At least two of the Brigands are Boomers!//  
  
"What type?"  
  
//Possible C-Class, but // there was a burst of static, followed by a long series of curses and rifle fire.  
  
"Chosokabe!"  
  
//Still here.// The voice was weak and in pain. //One of those god-damned boomers nearly took my head off with its mouth laser!//  
  
"Are you all right?"  
  
//For now, but those two boomers managed to get past the roadblock. They took out several members of Epsilon and Kappa as they went by.//  
  
Skeeter glanced over at Chika. She looked unhappy. "Mu couldn't stop Bandit One and Two. They're heading in this direction, ETA two minutes."  
  
The giant nodded. "Field Six to Field Five. Are the bandits in sight?"  
  
//Affirmative, Boss. Permission to fire?//  
  
"Affirmative." Skeeter turned towards the bartender, a hulking brute with a scarred face and a eyepatch over his left eye. "Patch, bring the  
outside security cameras on-line."  
  
The man nodded and reached under the bar. Next to the bar, a section of the wall slid away to revel a bank of monitors. They quickly flickered to life, showing the streets and alleys around the Ri-san Bar. Skeeter scanned each of them until he saw a pair of headlight slide into view, barreling down the street towards the camera. A split second later, another car raced around the same corner, and followed the first car. As it did so, the distance squeal of tires could be heard coming from outside.  
  
"Lock and Load, People!" shouted Chika. The sounds of magazines slotting into the wells of assault rifles, shotguns, pistols, and machine guns nearly drowned out her next words. "Devechio! Take five men and cover the street from upstairs! The rest of you cover the front! Pick your shots and lets show these metallic morons the real meaning of firepower!"  
  
Five men charged through the door in the back of the bar room, the sounds of boots on stairs echoing in the hall before the door slammed shut. The rest grabbed tables and carried them toward the front. The dingy curtains that framed the two large windows on either side of the bar's front door were hastily ripped away. Most of the lights in the bar died, plunging the tavern into deep shadows. Just then, there was a loud crack, like a distant thunderclap. On the screen, the first invading car's engine exploded in a splash of light and fury. Even as the explosion faded, the sound ripped through the bar.  
  
//That's one,// said Doc calmly. //Going for the double.//  
  
The second car had slammed on its brakes to avoid plowing into the first car. It slid sideways, missing the flaming wreckage by less then three meters. The doors flew open, and four people scrambled out. "We've got four brigands on foot!" Skeeter said in a loud voice.  
  
There was another distant thunderclap, and the second car exploded. Three of the figures scrambled for cover, but the fourth turned and stared in the direction of the bar. As it did so, two flashes of light appeared from around the corner, becoming boomers as they landed out of the darkness next to the figure. Now all three looked at the bar.  
  
"Shit," someone said in a loud whisper. "Boomers."  
  
"Hosokoawa," snarled Chika. "Zip it, or I'll zip it for you!"  
  
At some silent signal, all three leapt toward the tavern, the third tearing out of his disguise. As they passed the burning car, a fire wreathed figure emerged from the flames and joined the other three.  
  
"Four C-Class Boomers," Skeeter called out.  
  
"Wait for my mark," shouted Chika. "Anyone fires before I say so is going to have my boot up their ass!"  
  
robots are progressing too swiftly for me to tag them.said Doc.  
  
"Stay close," replied Skeeter, his eyes never leaving the screens."Chika, two hundred meters and closing."  
  
"Field One to Mu," Said Chika into her microphone.. "Get you carcasses over to my location on the double!"  
  
"One hundred and fifty meters." Skeeter drew his pistol with one hand and knocked over a large wooden table with the other. The crash of the heavy wooden table hitting the floor startled several of the gang members, causing one to involuntary tighten the trigger of his assault rifle. A short burst shattered the front window, sending shards of glass into the street.  
  
Chika's eyes darken. "If we get out of this in one piece, Baker," she growled, "you're going to clean every single gun in the outfit!"  
  
"One hundred meters." Skeeter stepped behind the table he'd just tipped over. "Get over here, Chika."  
  
The dark-hair woman shook her head. "I'm staying right here."  
  
"No you're not."  
  
She turned to stare at him. "There's no way it Hell -- "  
  
"Fifty meters," said Skeeter calmly, reaching out and grabbing his field commander by the arm and lifting her over the table with the same ease a parent would have with a young child. He looked down at her. "Dead commanders are no good to me," he said softly. He then glanced at the screens again. "Thirty meters," he announced loudly.  
  
time now,muttered Doc over Skeeter's earphone.  
  
"Twenty meters. . . .Ten meters."  
  
"FIRE!"  
  
The word was still being shouted by Chika when the entire front of the bar erupted in streaks of flame, shattering glass as the gang members opened up. Half a heartbeat later, the defenders on the second floor opened fire on the Boomers, followed quickly by others stationed in the building facing the bar.  
  
C-class Boomers are covert designs, conceived as bodyguard and assassins. As such, they are armored and quick enough to give the undermanned and under- gunned AD Police fits when they went on a rampage. Most of the time, the ADP was forced to follow stupid bureaucratic  
rules that caused more death and destruction then the Boomers did.  
  
However, Skeeter's people weren't the type to follow ANY rules.  
  
The quartet of Cyberdroids were hit with dozen of rounds, ranging in size from nine millimeter to fifty caliber rounds from a couple of old, but still potent, M2 heavy machine guns. Several rockets screamed in from several directions, adding explosions to the firefight.  
  
The 55C that had survived the explosion of the first car didn't survive two RPG-23 rockets that slammed into its back, shredding armor and  
internal components. The sixty caliber round, courtesy of Doc's Matilda, that punched through its forehead and blew out the back of its head, just completed the execution.  
  
The two Boomers that had forced their way through the first roadblock each died less then three meters from the bar, the intense fire ripping  
nearly one in half, while the other lost most of its upper body to a point-blank blast from a grenade launcher that nearly did the same to the human wielding it.  
  
But the last Boomer, the one who had gotten out of the second car, crashed through the bar door and surged forward into the shadowy twilight  
of the bar itself. While it had lost its right arm and most of it lower jaw in the barrage, the 55C was far from dead A loud 'snick' and the Boomer had two serrated blades pop out the left forearm, its red eyes seeking its target. Most of the firing stopped, as the gang was reluctant to accidently shoot one of their own.  
  
Chika rolled out from behind the table and triggered both machine guns. The twin streams of rounds hit the Cyberdroid in the legs and lower torso with enough force to stagger it. Chika cursed when the subguns ran dry, forcing her to stop to change the magazines. Hissing in a manner that  
suggested anger, it paused only long enough to gut two gang members that had moved in too close before throwing itself at Chika.  
  
It didn't finish the jump.  
  
Skeeter rose, holding the heavy wooden table like a battering ram. With a roar like an enraged grizzly bear, the gang leader threw the table at  
the boomer. The improvised missile crashed into the boomer, splintering the table and hurtling the boomer into the wall with a loud crash.  
  
People usually made two mistakes when they met Skeeter Karns for the first time. The first, and most common, mistake was the belief that Skeeter was nothing more then a big, stupid thug. Five minutes of conversation was enough to convince most people that the gang leader was anything but a moron. The second, and more dangerous, assumption was a man with the size and bulk of Skeeter was slow and poorly coordinated.  
  
The Boomer made the second mistake  
  
It took a split second to run a diagnostic on its systems before it rose. Before it finished reaching its feet, Skeeter had covered the few meters that separated them. Sensing movement, the boomer turned and threw a punch at the giant's chest, trying to impale him on the twenty centimeters long blades. Moving with the swiftness and ease of a tidal wave, Skeeter sidestepped the wicked blades, the giant's left hand deflecting the Boomer's arm down and away from his body. Like a pair of pistons, the giant's arm shot out and grabbed the Boomer's head.  
  
The gang leader's right hand snaked around the back of the 55C's head, the left grabbed what remained of the jaw. The Boomer, realizing  
what Skeeter intended, tried to slam its elbow into the giant's ribs, but it was too late.  
  
With a snarl of fury, Skeeter twisted the boomer's head hard to the left. With a sickening snap, the boomer's neck broke, and its red eyes darken. Without stopping, Skeeter twisted the Boomer's head until it came free from its body. As the Cyberdroid's body collapsed into a heap, the gang leader's expression was unreadable. He looked down at the head of the boomer still in his hands and scowled.  
  
It was then that a dozen gang members, led by Doc and the modified sniper rifle he called Matilda bursted into the bar. For several seconds,  
there was silence in the bar.  
  
"Look alive people!" Chika shouted, breaking the mood. "This may be just the first wave, and we still have an unknown number of the enemy  
out there! Hosokoawa!"  
  
"Yo!"  
  
"Take a dozen men and track down those frakkers that bailed out of the second car!"  
  
"Right! Robeson, Toshisada, you're with me. Grab some guys and let's go hunting!"  
  
"I want them alive if possible," said Skeeter in a calm voice. He looked at Hosokoawa. "I want answers to a lot of questions."  
  
Hosokoawa nodded grimly, reading his leader's mood. "You heard the Boss!" he shouted. "He wants breathing bodies if possible, and we'd  
better damn make sure it's possible. Let's go!"  
  
As the response team dashed out of the bar, Chika and Doc exchanged glances. Doc handed Matilda to one of the other gang members and walked over to Skeeter. "Are you all right?" he asked quietly.  
  
"No." He turn and threw the Boomer's head against the wall with enough force to leave a sizable dent in the wall. "I am angry," he said in a calm, still voice.  
  
Doc repressed a shudder, remembering the last time his boss had become 'angry'. A year back, the Red Cobra Triad had tried to move into Skeeter's territory, seeking to expand their power and influence. The giant had told them to get off his turf. The head of the Red Cobras responded by trying to have Skeeter killed by six of his top assassins. Slipping through the giant's security, they found the giant and did their best to kill him.  
  
Skeeter killed all six with his bare hands.  
  
Doc remembered the look on his friend's face when they burst into his room. The same composed look, the same calm voice that announced he was angry as he dropped the body of the last hired killer. The Red Cobras' dreams of expansion, and most of the Triad, died in a brutal two-week war that ended with the death of the Cobra's leader at Skeeter's hands.  
  
"What do we do now?" Doc asked, but he already knew the question.  
  
Skeeter turned and gave him a cold smile. "The same thing we did to the Red Cobras."  
  
"We don't know who did this!"  
  
"I do. Put the word out we are now at ALERTCON one. All units are now active and are on a war footing. I want Rodent here ASAP, and I want all our intel people out on the street within ten minutes from now -- they'll get their orders then."  
  
Doc nodded. There was no talking to Skeeter when he was like this. "I hope you know what you're doing."  
  
"I do. It's the Bradleys that don't know what they've begun. I intend to finish it, and now."  
  
Doc turned and looked at the burning cars outside the shattered windows. In the distance, there were the sounds of gunfire as Hosokoawa's  
men hunted down the human attackers. "Here we go again," he muttered.  
  
  
 ************  
  
GENOM Tower  
Sunday, December 23, 2035  
12:28am  
  
** Quinton Faust nervously adjusted his tie as the elevator rose. He wished there had been time to change and freshen up before this meeting,  
but the Chairman's orders were clear: _At once_. The folder under his right arm wasn't thick with papers, but the information in it was important. Important enough to bring it to the Chairman's attention at once.  
  
He didn't bother to glance at the boomer bodyguard he'd been assigned since his elevation to Special Assistant to the Chairman. Unlike his  
predecessor, Faust didn't care for a phalanx of boomers to shield him from the outside world. In fact, he had protested ANY sort of bodyguard, but Chairman Quincy was quite firm -- and what the Chairman wants, he gets. So the single BU-55C became Faust's shadow.  
  
Despite the bodyguard, Faust reflected, his current position was a great improvement over his old life. His life was GENOM, and he served it willingly, even to the point of limiting his social life to an occasional solo dinner. He knew he wasn't chairman materiel, but he still did his job, ignoring the rumors and gossip about Brian Mason, one of his predecessor. Whatever Mason had done wrong, Faust was determined not to make the same mistakes.  
  
"Are you all right, Sir?" asked the Boomer politely.  
  
"I-I'm fine George," Faust replied with a stammer.  
  
The boomer nodded, but said nothing else. Several seconds later, the elevator stopped and the doors opened. Faust strode out and turned right, followed by his bodyguard. The hallway was devoid of the normal office noise, allowing the quiet hum of the building's system to be audible. With  
the exception of a pair of cleaning Boomers, there was no one around.  
  
There were five Boomers on guard duty when Faust and his escort arrived in the chairman's outer office. Four of the Cyberdroids Faust recognized as the brand- new and advanced BU-65Cs that were part of the Chairman's personal protection team. Slightly smaller and sleeker then the older 55Cs, Faust knew they were faster, stronger, and smarter then his own bodyguard, answerable only to the Chairman himself. The fifth boomer was an older 55C, that Faust identified as Madigan's personal bodyguard. All five turned to watch the two walk in.  
  
"I'm here to see the chairman," Faust said.  
  
One of the 65Cs nodded. "He's expecting you, sir." The Boomer turned and opened the door wide. Faust strode in, while his bodyguard took its place in the outer office.  
  
The office was in darkness, the lights of the city below the only source of illumination. As Faust's eyes adjusted to the gloom, he could make out four people in the room. Two were the last of the Chairman's personal protection team, standing near the door to the outer office. Both gave the Special Assistant what looked like an unfriendly stare, but Faust knew was really a detailed scan of his body for any weapons or explosives hidden on him. He stopped and stood still, allowing the boomers to complete the scan. After several seconds, one look at the man sitting behind the desk. "He's clean, sir."  
  
"As was expected," said the Chairman, his face hidden in the shadows. Madigan turned to look at the newcomer, frowning at him. Despite the hour, she looked well groomed and relatively fresh.  
  
"What do you have?" the Chairman asked, leaning forward enough so Faust could see his face.  
  
Faust strode forward, stopping in front of the Chairman's desk. "We've found a common thread among the stolen Boomers."  
  
"What?"  
  
"Not a what, sir, but a who." Faust opened up the folder and passed a photo to the Chairman.  
  
Quincy took the photo, looked at it for several seconds, then passed it to Madigan. "Who is it?"  
  
"Satoshi Asamizu. Age 39. For the last years, he has been director of the Boomer maintenance centers for the entire Pacific Rim sector. Divorced, two children and ex-wife living in San Francisco. Clean record up to this point in his career."  
  
"Why is he a link?" asked Madigan.  
  
"Every single missing Boomer was serviced in one of the centers under his direction in the six months before they went missing."  
  
Madigan arched an eyebrow. "Every one? Even those lost in Europe and the Americas?"  
  
Faust nodded.  
  
"That's thin evidence," said Quincy slowly.  
  
"Yes, Sir, but it gave us a direction to look in." Faust pulled out a sheet of paper. "We found a collation between Director Asamizu's visits and the presence of the missing Boomers." He handed the sheet to the Chairman. "This is a list of the 'inspection trips' the director has made in the last thirty-two months. In short, Director Asamizu has visited the maintenance centers under his direction a total of twenty-three times in the last three years. On seventeen of his visits, there were Boomers on our missing list that were in the center at that time."  
  
"How many?"  
  
"Out of the two hundred five Boomers on our list, one hundred thirteen, or about fifty-five percent."  
  
"Indeed?" said Quincy slowly. "And the rest?"  
  
Faust drew another sheet of paper from the folder and gave it to the Chairman. "A list of vid-phone calls Director Asamizu has made to the maintenance centers in the same time period. Please note the ones with the red checkmarks next to them."  
  
Quincy gave the first sheet to Madigan, then scanned the sheet of calls. "The other ninety-two Boomers?"  
  
"Yes Sir. Every single time one of those Boomers came in for repair and refit, there was a vid-call from the Director."  
  
The Chairman handed Madigan the second sheet of paper. The lavender-haired woman skimmed it, then handed both sheets back to Faust. "It's not enough," she said bruskly.  
  
The Special Assistant nodded as he replaced the sheets inside the folder. "I realized that. So, using the Chairman's authority, I accessed  
the Director's finances."  
  
Madigan frowned, but Quincy said, "Proceed, Mr. Faust."  
  
Faust pulled several sheets of paper from the folder and handed it to the Chairman. "This is a copy of Director Asamizu's fiances for the last four years. Please note the low level of his balance for the first fifteen months."  
  
Quincy read through the pages slowly. He stopped at a line in the second sheet. "Interesting," he murmured. He scanned several more lines. "Ms. Madigan, what was the percentage of the wage increase GENOM gave their senior middle management over the last four years?"  
  
The lavender-haired woman though for several seconds before replying. "Three percent every year."  
  
The Chairman nodded. "Either Director Asamizu has begun to live like a monk, or he is earning far beyond his salary." He handed the sheets to her. "As Mr. Faust said, look at the first year and a quarter, then compare it to the rest."  
  
After two minutes of reading, Madigan leaned back in her chair. "He must be embezzling," she said softly, her voice tinged with anger.  
  
"We checked into that," replied Faust. "But the deposits into Director Asamizu's account always occurred two to three days after he visited or  
called a service center when a missing boomer was in."  
  
Quincy leaned back in his chair, allowing the shadows to hide his face. "Any idea where the money is coming from?"  
  
Faust frowned. "Our preliminary reports indicates that the funds have come from at least six banks, including two owned by GENOM. We are  
attempting to trace the deposits right now."  
  
"Very well, Mr. Faust. Continue your investigation. You are dismissed."  
  
Faust turned and walked to the door. As he reached for the door handle, the Chairman said, "I remind you not discuss this matter with anyone outside of this room, with the exception of your team."  
  
Faust turned and bowed. "I understand completely, sir." He turned, opened the door and went out.  
  
Quincy waited until the door closed before he looked at Madigan. "Your opinion of Mr. Faust's finding?"  
  
"I think he may have found something."  
  
"I agree."  
  
"What do we do about it?"  
  
There was silence for several seconds, then the Chairman said, "I suggest that Director Asamizu should be asked to come in and discuss  
the matter."  
  
Madigan straightened in her chair. "When?"  
  
"Immediately, of course."  
  
"But if we bring him in, we might lose the others involved in this scheme."  
  
"Only if they know that he's been brought in." A thin hand reached out and tapped several keys in the desk's built-in computer keyboard. "According to our records, Director Asamizu lives in the GLAS condominium complex in district 2." He looked over at Madigan. "There's a number of construction projects in that area, and at least three of them are behind schedule. It's possible that those three are desperate enough to overwork their construction Boomers beyond their recommenced time periods."  
  
"Such a foolish thing could result in a Boomer Rampage," replied Madigan seriously.  
  
Quincy nodded. "In that case, I suggest that you extend that invitation to Director Asamizu before a Boomer rampage occurs and we lose the chance to discuss this with him."  
  
Madigan stood. "I'll extend the invitation personally, Sir."  
  
"Very well. One other thing."  
  
"Sir?"  
  
"Mr. Faust has no need to know about our discussion with Mr. Asamizu."  
  
"I understand sir."  
  
"You may go."  
  
Quincy waited until the door shut behind Madigan before he turned his chair around and stared out into the city below.  
  
 ************  
  
**  



	32. Chapter 32

========================================================= ========  
  
 **Chapter 32  
  
Nene's Apartment  
Sunday, December 23, 2035  
12:43am  
**  
The only light in the small apartment came from the computer's monitor, the only sound was the light tapping of someone using a keyboard.  
  
Nene blinked twice in mid-type, then reached forward and pinched the bridge of her nose. _There's no telling what's going to happen tomorrow,_ she thought.  
  
Between her new job and the current situation, she was feeling tired. Yes, she enjoyed the challenge she was going to have, attempting to secure the ADP computer system, but Alan's assessment was worrying. She saw long hours and hard work ahead of her and Alan before she felt the system was safe.  
  
Nene yawned and stretched. And what about Alan? He seemed nice enough, but he was hiding something behind the smile and helpful attitude. His records didn't show anything strange, but his medical condition was still a big unknown. Could she trust him? She was going to have to ask around  
maybe Daley would know something about him, something that wasn't in the records. He seemed to know Alan.  
  
She looked at the code on the screen and shook her head. She hadn't been home more then three minutes before she'd sat in front of her computer and started coding. The idea had been simmering in her mind for most of the day. The code, now nothing more then a series of half-cryptic lines, was the first step in securing the ADP computer system. The firewall wouldn't stop everyone, but it would, once completed, stop most no-talent  
hacks from getting through. For the more serious cracker, though, Nene was going to have to give it more thought.  
  
 _What about the Knight Sabers?  
  
_ She winced at that thought. It was going to be tougher to slip out of work now. There was only one person who could cover for her now - Alan. There would be a limit on when and how often she could slip away. On the plus side, she wouldn't be working very many night shifts now. But,  
still....  
  
She frowned. _I'll have to play this carefully_ , she thought. Hopefully, there wouldn't be too many days where she would have to slip out of work early. She just hoped Sylia would understand.  
  
Her thoughts went to the research she'd done for Sylia earlier. Finding doctors that specialized in blood disorders wasn't too hard, but the  
information on the disorder itself was rare. She managed to scrape enough data together to give Sylia an overview of the condition, as well as an  
outline of the treatment, but not much more.  
  
The search for information on the Boomer attack at MALCORP's pharmaceutical research and manufacturing center was somewhat more substantial. The preliminary reports were already in the ADP computer system and Nene had no problem with accessing them. What the reports said  
made her uneasy. If the ADP troopers who'd survived the attack were right, the Boomers were using a force shield like the ones the team had destroyed -- was it only two nights ago?  
  
She rubbed her eyes, feeling the grit. Just then, Mackie's face popped into her memory. Nene stopped for a minute and smiled. She was pretty sure she loved him and he her. She now noticed a maturity in him that hadn't been there before he left for Germany, a quiet assurance that she rather liked. And he sure could kiss....  
  
Nene sighed and saved her work, then turn the computer off. She stretched slowly and yawned. She walked over to her bed and flopped face-first on it, too tired to even remove her clothes. With one hand, she reached out and set her clock alarm. Within a minute, she was sound asleep.  
  
 ************  
  
Ri-san Bar  
District 6  
Sunday, December 23, 2035  
1:07am  
  
** Kosaku Sanemori nudged Daley. "Wake up, we're here."  
  
Daley Wong opened one eye. "Any rampaging Boomers in sight?"  
  
"Nope."  
  
"Do you see a large individual, with dark skin, who could be mistaken for a Boomer in any light?"  
  
"Yep."  
  
"Does he look mad?"  
  
"Nope. He doesn't look happy, though."  
  
"He's pissed."  
  
Ko looked at his superior, a puzzled look on his face. "I missed something."  
  
Daley yawned and unbuckled his seatbelt. "There are three things you should never do in MegaTokyo," he said, stretching as much as the passenger seat would allow. "Never cross GENOM, never double-cross the Knight Sabers, and never get Skeeter Karns angry."  
  
Ko looked out the windshield at the giant that was standing several dozen meters away. "That's Skeeter Karns?"  
  
"In the flesh." Daley yawned and opened the car door. "I'll introduce you to him."  
  
"Is that wise? You just said he's angry."  
  
"Not at us. But someone is going to wish they hadn't started this."  
  
They both got of the police car and walked toward the giant. There were police and firemen everywhere, along with a small number of onlookers. Most of the firemen's attention was on the remains of two cars in the middle of the road. Around them, ADP troopers were double checking the surrounding buildings for any evidence of battle. As they passed an alley, Daley noted the unmistakable form of a body with a blanket over it. Several portable floodlights lit up the block as bright as day, showing every flaw and blemish of the surrounding buildings.  
  
The acrid smoke of burning rubber mixed with the bitter tang of an explosive residue that tickled the back of Daley's throat. Beside him, Ko coughed. "How are we going to play this?"  
  
"We'll ask Skeeter what happened."  
  
"We're not going to arrest him?" asked Ko.  
  
"For what?" replied Daley wearily. "Any illegal firepower that we could arrest him for is at least five kilometers from here by now. There's nothing here to connect him with any illegal activities, and he's had plenty of time to hide either the bodies or the evidence. Skeeter never goes looking for trouble, but he always finishes it. Did you hear what happened to the Red Cobras a year back?"  
  
"They got wiped out in a turf war with a rival Triad."  
  
"Not quite. Ronnie Yee was stupid enough to piss off Skeeter Karns."  
  
Ko grimaced. "I remember when they found the body. It looked like someone had used the Triad leader for batting practice. Any evidence ever turn up to point to our friend here?"  
  
"Not a shred. Everyone in the city knows he did it, but Skeeter's men are loyal to him like Yakuza to their _Oyabun_ , and there weren't enough  
surviving Red Cobras to fill a phone booth. Plus, Ronnie Yee wasn't well liked by anyone, so nobody was really eager to push the issue."  
  
Ko frowned. "If this guy is such a danger, why hasn't anyone tried to take him down?"  
  
Daley sighed. "Because it all depends on how you define danger. Skeeter is doing a hell of a lot more good then evil."  
  
"Define good."  
  
The redhead shrugged. "Skeeter Karns runs this area of the city like it's a separate country. In return, he cares for the people down here." He  
motioned with his head to a storefront they were passing. "That's one of four medical clinics he finances in this area. For most of the citizens around here, it's the only health care they get."  
  
"That's nothing new. Shikichi Sato sponsors three soup kitchens and two homeless shelters, and he's the biggest crook in the city next to Quincy."  
  
"True. But that's just the start. Skeeter gives more money to the orphanage then the city does. There are at least twenty students in college right now that are there because Skeeter's paying for them to be there. No one runs drugs through this part of town - no one who wants to live that is."  
  
It was the taller man's turn to shrug. "He doesn't like competition."  
  
Daley shook his head. "You don't understand. Skeeter doesn't allow _any_ drug dealing on his turf and that includes his own people. Why do you think most of the Red Cobras ended on slabs in the morgue? Ronnie tried to move drugs into the area, and paid for it."  
  
"It sounds like you admire the guy," said Ko.  
  
"He's a better man then most of the 'city's leaders.' You know where you stand with him from the start, plus he willing to talk to policemen  
like us -- he's been funneling information to Leon and me for several years now."  
  
"A gang leader who likes talking to cops? I've got to see this."  
  
Skeeter turned and saw them. "Good morning Inspector," he said in a calm still voice.  
  
"Problems, Skeeter?" asked Daley.  
  
"Not really."  
  
"Hey boss!" shouted a stocky man with a craggy face and short reddish hair who was running up behind Skeeter. "I believe we may have discovered something about the identity of the malefactors behind this assault."  
  
"Yell a little louder, Doc," said Skeeter in the same still tone. "Only the two ADP officers here heard you."  
  
At the sight of Daley and Kosaku, the craggy-faced man rolled off a series of curses that combined inventiveness with vulgarity.  
  
"Nice to see you too, Doc," replied Daley with a tired smile. "Where's Chika?"  
  
"She's around," replied Skeeter.  
  
"How many people did you lose?"  
  
"The causality opinion is currently at five deceased and twelve injured," replied Doc.  
  
"Oh, shit," muttered Daley. He looked at Doc. "What happened?"  
  
Doc looked at Skeeter. "Tell the inspector about the attack, and your discovery. I need to check on my people. Excuse me." The Giant stalked away toward the small number of ambulances that were still loading injured people.  
  
Daley tapped Ko on the shoulder. "Find out whoever is in charge of this mess and get me some details." Ko nodded and walked off.  
  
The inspector waited until the younger man had walked out of earshot before he said to Doc. "All right, give the highlights in small words, if you don't mind. I'm not up to thousand yen words right now."  
  
It took the craggy-faced man three minutes, using small words, to outline the attack by the Boomers. Daley listened, frowning as he realized Doc was leaving out some things. After Doc finished, Daley said, "So, you have no idea who killed the three Boomers in the street?"  
  
"A moderately factual evaluation of the event, yes."  
  
Daley sighed. "And Skeeter killed the fourth one himself?"  
  
"By cleaving off the Cyberdroid's head in a staggering accomplishment of potency."  
  
"Knock off the high vocabulary," growled Daley. "He tore off the Boomer's head with his bare hands?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Skeeter's angry, isn't he?"  
  
"Very."  
  
"Does he know who's behind it?"  
  
Doc took a deep breath. "He thinks he does."  
  
"Who?"  
  
"I can't say."  
  
"Damn it, Doc!" Daley growled. "He can't take the law into his own hands!"  
  
"If he doesn't do it, who will?" Doc replied sharply. "The government? Those fat suits don't go out for lunch without permission from GENOM Tower. The police? You guys in the ADP are nothing more then sticky plaster over a festering wound, and the N-police are not equipped for the job."  
  
"But it isn't right!"  
  
"This isn't a perfect world." Doc took another deep breath. "Inspector, I've known Skeeter Karns for most of my life. We came to the orphanage about the same time, and went into the gang together. I have seen enough gang warfare to last me a life time. There's one thing we learned early and often -- if someone hits you, you hit them back twice as hard. It's that philosophy we've live by for a long time, and we're not going to change it to suit some suit's idea of 'order'."  
  
They stared at each other for several seconds, then Daley threw his hands up in disgust. "Short of arresting all of you, I can't stop you. But make damn sure of your target because so help me, I'll will run every one of you out of the city if you're wrong, or you leave enough evidence to point to you. Is that clear?"  
  
Doc smiled. "Loud and clear, Inspector. Now that the obligatory reading of the riot act has been read, I think you'll want to see this."  
  
"What?"  
  
"This way."  
  
Doc led the ADP officer toward a shattered storefront. Broken glass crunched under their feet, and there was a slight haze of smoke around the shattered windows. Doc went through the doorway first, followed by Daley. "What a mess," Daley mumbled. "No wonder Skeeter is pissed."  
  
Inside, the smell of gunpowder was stronger, and the haze thicker.Several ADP techs were examining several areas of the bar. Two were kneeling over the body of a BU-55C Boomer that was lying in the middle of a smashed table, while another one had the Boomer's head sitting on the bar.  
  
"The defacement to his establishment isn't what Skeeter is cantankerous about," replied Doc. "Rather his wrath is devoted to the individuals who sent the object over there to undertake the assignment of eradicating him." He pointed at the dead boomer.  
  
"Hey, you!" snarled one of the techs, a tall gangly man with fiery red hair. "I told you to stay out of here!"  
  
Doc turned to look at the tech. "Are you referring to me?" he asked mildly.  
  
"Yes you ape, I'm talking to you! This is a police crime scene. So get your ass out of here before I have you tossed into a cell!"  
  
"And how many of you confederates will it necessitate accomplishing such a task?" Doc asked in the same mild voice. "I am more then competent to deposit all of you into the medical center with sufficient incapacities to keep you out of your chosen labor for an elongated period of time,  
a circumstance that the gentleman standing adjacent to me will not be blissful about."  
  
The tech frowned, trying to understand what Doc had just said. "Huh?"  
  
The older woman who was examining the Boomer's head looked up. "Doc said that if you tried to throw him out he will resist, and you're no match for him. Also, Inspector Wong, your superior officer, is standing next to him, and he will give you an ass chewing like you've never had before. So, I suggest you shut up and go back to work."  
  
The angry tech's mouth opened, closed, then opened again, like a fish out of water. The female tech sighed. "Clancy," she said in a soothing  
voice, "Why don't you go out to the truck and get a bag to put big, blue and ugly into?"  
  
"Sure Sarge," replied Clancy, glaring at Doc with undisguised hatred. The shorter man ignored the look. Then the tech stalked out the door.  
  
"An incomparable illustration of the hypothesis that some human being's mouths are inverted to the capacity of their intellects," said Doc with a shrug.  
  
"He's young and doesn't know any better," replied the woman.  
  
"What do you have, Akito?" asked Daley.  
  
The tech was short, slim, and looked as fragile as a china doll. "We have a modified BU-55C Boomer with its head torn off."  
  
"I know that much. What did you find?"  
  
Akito turned the head over and opened a small panel in the back of the Boomer's head. She tilted the head so the two men could see inside. "GENOM uses J-4533 memory chips in these models," she said in a smooth voice. "They're exclusive to GENOM and almost impossible to get outside of the factory. Somebody's replace them with G&B K-44 memory chips - not as fast as the J-4533s, but they are more robust, less prone  
to overheating, and a hell of a lot easier to get."  
  
"What does that tell us?"  
  
"That this isn't a random Boomer rampage."  
  
"We concluded that before the attack was over," said Doc.  
  
"But in order to use the K-44s, this boomer had to be reprogrammed, and there's not many people out of GENOM that could have done it."  
  
"Assuming GENOM isn't behind this," said Daley.  
  
"Highly unlikely," replied Doc. "Skeeter does not get in GENOM's way unless he has to."  
  
"A wise course of action."  
  
All three turned in the direction of the new voice. A tall, heavy set man with a long coat stood in the doorway. Behind him, two larger figures  
stood, their size and menace declaring themselves as Boomers even though they were in shadow.  
  
"Who are you?" asked Daley. "And why are you here at a crime scene?" Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Doc walked behind the bar.  
  
"My name is Philip Tarson," replied the man with a half smile. "I'm a special assistant to Chairman Quincy."  
  
"So the Wolf has sent a jackal to pick up the carcass," said a voice from behind Tarson.  
  
Tarson half-spun in surprise. "What "  
  
A large figure stood behind the Boomers. "Tell your tin men to move before I tear off their heads too."  
  
"Let Mr. Karns through," Tarson hissed.  
  
The Boomers stepped aside, allowing the giant to pass between them, but not far enough apart that Skeeter couldn't avoid having to put his hands on their shoulders as he passed them. Skeeter loomed over Tarson. "Tell the Chairman he's not going to sweep this one under the rug," he said in a cold voice.  
  
A hint of panic flared in Tarson's eyes. "But GENOM has no part in this --"  
  
"I don't care."  
  
The three words lowered the temperature in the room several degrees. Skeeter, who was a full head taller then Tarson, continued. "I don't blame GENOM for this -- yet. But someone has tried to kill me, and has killed half a dozen of my people. I don't forgive or forget easily, Mr. Tarson,  
and I always take care of my business. The Boomers stay until the ADP has finished their investigation. Am I clear?"  
  
"But "  
  
"This is a dangerous area of the city, and people here don't like Boomers much. They hate GENOM bigwigs even more. You might not make it out of the area alive."  
  
"I'll get an ADP escort!"  
  
"I'm sorry," said Daley. "But We're stretched to the limit right now. I don't have anyone to spare." He motioned to the three techs in the bar. "Most of the personnel here are not front-line officers." He then glanced over at Akito. "Isn't Clancy going to need help with that boomer bag?"  
  
He woman nodded. "I think so. Joe, Marasura, we'd better give Clancy a hand."  
  
All three hurried out of the bar. Tarson shot Daley a dirty look. "This is illegal!" he shouted. "I'll have your badge!' I ULK!"  
  
Skeeter reached out and grabbed the special assistant by the lapels and hauled him up until they were eye to eye. Both Boomers moved forward to help their boss, but suddenly froze in mid-stride. Doc, behind the bar, was holding a small box. "An unqualified success," he announced.  
  
Daley turned to look at him. "What did you do?"  
  
"I'll explain later," replied Doc quickly.  
  
Daley turned back to watch the confrontation.  
  
The look on Tarson's face was one of panic. He was dangling a third of a meter off the ground, nose to nose with arguably the most physically imposing human in the city, and his bodyguards had somehow been immobilized. "You can't do this!" he squawked.  
  
"You're not on GENOM'S turf," said Skeeter in the same calm voice he'd been using since the attack. "You're on mine, and we play by my rules."  
  
"Inspector Wong!" Tarson howled. "I demand that this man be arrested!"  
  
Daley frowned. "Skeeter, are you going to resist arrest?"  
  
"I feel like resisting right now."  
  
Daley sighed. "I was afraid you'd say that." The Inspector walked toward the front door.  
  
Tarson's eyes widen even more. "Where are going?" he screeched.  
  
Daley stopped and looked at him. "You don't expect me to arrest him all by myself, do you?"  
  
"But -"  
  
"Skeeter's already stated he's planning to resist arrest. That means I'm going to need help." He looked at Doc. "How many ADP troopers should I get?"  
  
Doc scratched his chin. "I would recommend at least half a dozen if you don't mind getting a couple killed. If you want to avoid any deaths,  
a full dozen should do it."  
  
Daley made a face. "That's means it'll take about five minutes to get them together, assuming they're on-site, and another couple of minutes to get back over here." He looked at Tarson. "Do you think you can hold out for at least seven minutes?"  
  
Tarson went pale. "Shoot him!"  
  
"With what? I left my pistol in the car."  
  
Beads of sweat dripped from the GENOM man's face. "All right!" he shouted. "You have twelve hours, then GENOM wants those Boomers back! Do we have an understanding?"  
  
Skeeter turned to look at Daley. "Is twelve hours long enough?"  
  
"It should be." Daley turned to look at Akito, who had just rentered the bar. "Can you complete your analysis by then?"  
  
Akito nodded. "I don't think that'll be a problem."  
  
Daley gave her a tired smile. "Good." He glanced over at the hapless Tarson. "As a sign of good faith, I'll make sure there's a copy of  
the ADP report with the Boomer's remains when you come to pick them up tomorrow. Fair enough?"  
  
Tarson, in no position to complain, nodded. With almost a sigh of regret, Skeeter released the assistant. "Thank you for your flexibility,"  
said the giant, a faint hint of amusement in his voice.  
  
Tarson straightened out his coat and suit, avoiding the giant's eyes for several seconds. He didn't notice Skeeter step back and place a hand  
on each of the frozen boomer's shoulder, the same shoulders he'd touched when he went past then the first time. By the time Tarson looked up, Skeeter had stepped forward again, looking as if he hadn't moved.  
  
"I won't forget this," Tarson hissed. "You have no idea who you're dealing with."  
  
Skeeter didn't look intimidated. "You're nothing more then a lapdog, Tarson, feeding off whatever scraps Quincy throws in your direction. I  
think it's time you left."  
  
"What about my Bodyguards?"  
  
"They should be all right now, though I'd advise against any 'sudden Boomer rampages' in the area for the foreseeable future. We take care of  
our own."  
  
Tarson gave Skeeter a hard stare that made no impression on the big man, then gave everyone in the room a withering glare, saving his best  
for Daley. Then, without a word, he stepped around Skeeter and walked out the door, followed by the two, now-mobile, Boomers.  
  
"An enthralling expose of phobia over conventional perception," announced Doc with a smile.  
  
Ko walked into the bar, looking concerned. "What happened?" he asked.  
  
"An insignificant controversy between the GENOM conglomerate and the spokesman of the indigenous inhabitants."  
  
Ko looked at Doc. "Do you always talk like that?"  
  
"Don't get him started," said Daley. "Or he'll start using words that have more then three syllables, and I'm not ready for that this early in the morning. What do you have?"  
  
Ko shrugged. "About what we already knew. Four dead Boomers, several burnt-up or shot-up cars, several unidentified bodies, and, unless my eyesight is going, one really pissed off Special assistant to GENOM's Chairman."  
  
Daley arched an eyebrow. "You know Tarson?"  
  
"Only well enough to know that he's a slimy bastard who I wouldn't trust as far as I could throw this building. I work a case a couple of years back, involving an apparent suicide at GENOM Tower -- Tarson's secretary at the time. We didn't hit it off."  
  
"Why not?"  
  
"Because I thought then, and still do now, he helped the poor woman to 'jump' off the Tower. I couldn't prove a damn thing, though, and he  
knew it. I came close to punching him out a couple of times."  
  
"An astonishing dependability in Mr. Tarson's disposition that manages to aggravate everyone he encounters."  
  
"Doc," said Daley. "If you use a word larger the two syllables in the next ten minutes, I'll lock you up for obstruction."  
  
"Leave the Inspector alone, Doc," said Skeeter quietly. "He isn't the enemy -- at least, not this time." The craggy-faced man nodded, but said nothing.  
  
"You said there were several unidentified bodies," Daley said to Ko. "Where were they?"  
  
"There were three two blocks from here looks like some sort of roadblock ambush. There were two other cars there, neither one in great shape. Both bodies and cars looked like they walked into a storm of lead. We've two more bodies outside, in about the same shape." Ko looked  
over at Skeeter, and said in a louder voice, "I would say that anyone carrying that much firepower would have some illegal weapons. The ME thinks  
several of the unknowns were shot with ammo larger then 7.62 millimeter."  
  
Skeeter ignored the veiled jab and walked over the bar. "The usual, Doc," he said in a soft voice. Doc pulled out a bottle and splashed some  
clear liquid into a glass. The giant picked it up with his right hand and sipped. Ko continued to watch Skeeter, his expression one of watchfulness.  
  
"What about the cars?" asked Daley quickly, attracting Ko's attention. "Any ID on them?"  
  
"The N-Police are running the car plates and VINs through the computer right now. We should know who owns them shortly."  
  
"Fine. I want you to go out and supervise the loading of the dead Boomers and get an escort together. You and I will go back with the bodies."  
  
Ko looked unconvinced. "Am I missing something here?"  
  
"Nothing more then I am," replied Daley. "Which right now is a good hot bath and ten hours of sleep." He yawned. "I'll be out in a couple of minutes. You get to drive."  
  
Still looking unconvinced, Ko walked out. Daley waited until the detective left before he turned and leaned on the bar. "A scotch," he said to Doc. "Make it a double."  
  
"Do you know what's going on?" Skeeter asked in the same soft voice he'd used to order his drink.  
  
"Jeena filled me on the highlights," Daley replied. Doc placed the filled glass in front of him. Daley picked it up and looked at it. "Do you really want to get involved in a Corpwar?"  
  
"I'm already involved," muttered Skeeter. "This incident is just an upping of the ante."  
  
"You're not folding, are you?"  
  
"I don't fold, Inspector. Some people have a hard time believing that"  
  
"Was one of those people Ronnie Yee?"  
  
Skeeter shrugged. "Some people can't understand 'no', no matter how it is phrased."  
  
"But you're throwing yourself and your people into the middle of a Corpwar," said Daley in a low voice. "They'll slice you up and spit out the pieces."  
  
"Do you know what the real differences between GENOM and their ilk and the Red Cobras are?" asked Skeeter. "The Corps has more expensive toys and use high sounding words to hide the blade they'll stick in your back." He looked at Daley. "But when it all comes down to it, there's no real difference between the Corps and the gangs they're all sharks at feeding time. Kill enough of them, and the rest will feed on the bodies long enough for you to get away."  
  
Daley downed his drink. "I can't stop you," he said, placing the glass on the bartop.  
  
"I wouldn't expect you to," replied Skeeter. "But I'm not going in blindly. I think it's time that I offered my services directly to MALCORP."  
  
Daley furred his brow. "You trust them?"  
  
"Of course not. But there's an old saying, Arabic, I believe - 'The enemy of my enemy is my friend.' I think MALCORP needs some friends in this city."  
  
"To go after Gulf and Bradley Japan?"  
  
"Right now, they are the threat to the city. GENOM is beginning to realize what exactly is going on. Quincy may be a cold-hearted bastard,  
but he isn't stupid. I suspect that he's already taking steps to deal himself into this abhorrent affair."  
  
Daley rubbed his forehead. "This is getting out of hand," he muttered. "The last thing this city needs is a full-scale, three-way Corpwar."  
  
"It started getting out of hand the moment the Bradley twins managed to kidnap Janie VanDell and brought her here." The giant looked at his drink. "If you want my advice, try and keep your people out of this. They'll only get killed."  
  
"You know I can't do that." Daley stood.  
  
"I know. But it had to be said."  
  
"You can answer one question for me before I go."  
  
"If I can."  
  
"How did you stop Tarson's bodyguards from interfering?"  
  
Skeeter smiled and held out his left hand. Sitting on the palm was two small electrical devices, each about the size of a thumbnail. "Electrical-nuero disrupters," he said. "Each can paralyze a 55C for roughly two minutes before the power cell is exhausted. I placed them on the Boomers when I shouldered my way past them and removed them while Tarson was pulling himself together."  
  
Daley picked up one and looked at it carefully. "We sure could use something like this in the ADP."  
  
"There are several problems with using them," said Doc. He reached over the bar and gently took the device from Daley. "The first is range. They have to be placed by hand, in the right place to get the maximum effect. If either one of those 55Cs had been in fighting mode, there's no way Skeeter could have gotten close enough to place them."  
  
He dropped the device back into the giant's hand. "The second problem is adaptability," he continued. "These are designed and built to be used on C-class boomers only. They will not work on B-class or Sexoids. I haven't gotten around to developing those yet, which leads me into the last problem -- cost. Those two there cost more the you make in five years."  
  
Daley whistled. "I see what you mean."  
  
"It's a start," said Skeeter somberly, closing his hand around the disrupters. "But enough about modern marvels. My night is far from over,  
and I suspect that yours is also. I will not occupy any more of your time tonight."  
  
The Inspector nodded. "Just be careful, OK? This city would be a bit more unstable without your presence."  
  
"Stability is a state of mind, Inspector, as are most human conditions. Good-bye."  
  
Daley turned and walked out of the bar, his brain trying to understand the new twists and turns that had been added in the last several hours. By the time he reached the car, he'd given up. _Skeeter's right_ , he thought. <<i>If GENOM gets involved -- and they will -- this entire situation could blow up in everyone's faces. In any case, the ADP has another long night ahead of us -- assuming we don't get caught in the crossfire. . . .  
  
 ************  
  
Sylia's Apartment  
Sunday, December 23, 2035  
1:09am  
  
** Sylia turned when she heard the door open behind her. "What are you still doing up?" she asked the figure standing in the doorway.  
  
"I can't sleep," Priss replied, walking into the room stiffly, her broken arm held in place by a sling and she was wearing a pair of Mackie's old pajamas. She sat on the couch and stared defiantly at her leader. "Besides, I'm usually up at this time of the night."  
  
"Care for some coffee?"  
  
"I could use a cup."  
  
Both women were silent until Sylia poured a cup and handed it to Priss. "How are you feeling?" she asked the singer.  
  
"I'm stiff, sore and this damn cast itches. How are you feeling?"  
  
Sylia sat and sipped her coffee before she answered. "Tired."  
  
"Are you still thinking about Greg?"  
  
Sylia frowned. "Why do you ask that?"  
  
Priss arched an eyebrow. "Because you look like you've got something on your mind that isn't related to work."  
  
"Is it that obvious?"  
  
"Maybe not to the others, but I've met Greg Mallory and they haven't. He doesn't strike me as a man who lets things stand between him  
and what he wants."  
  
Sylia gave her a wan smile. "He hasn't changed that much in thirteen years."  
  
"How well did you know him thirteen years ago?"  
  
"Well enough. My childhood wasn't a normal one as you well know. Bioescape had it's own school for it's employee's children and that's where I met him. He and I were in the same classes." At Priss' questioning stare, Sylia said. "I was already three grade levels ahead of everyone else  
my age, so they stuck me with the older students. Most of them considered me some sort of freak and avoided me. Greg was about the only one who'd ever speak to me as a person."  
  
"What was he like then?"  
  
"A perfect gentleman. Very reserved and quiet, but sometimes his motives for doing things were hidden. He was always reading some book or  
other about knights fighting dragons or other evil beasts, and he seemed to think of me as someone that needed protecting."  
  
Priss snorted. "Not anymore."  
  
Sylia nodded. "Still, he always managed to treat me as a human being and about the only boy I ever brought home that father ever approved of. . . ." Her voice trailed off as her face took on a thoughtful look, suffused with some worry.  
  
There was silence in the room for a while. Frowning, Priss asked, "What do you think of him now?"  
  
Sylia blinked, then stared at Priss. "What did you say?" she asked in a distant voice.  
  
"I said, what do you think of him now?"  
  
"In what way?"  
  
Priss rolled her eyes. "Are you attracted to him?"  
  
"I don't know."  
  
Priss leaned forward slowly, looking concerned. "Are you all right?" she asked softly. "I've never seen you this. . . ."  
  
"Uncertain? Distracted?" replied Sylia. She stood and went over to the window. As she stared out into the lighted city below, she said, "Greg has managed to touch a part of me that I thought I'd buried a long time ago."  
  
"But how?" asked Priss sharply. "You've met him twice in the last twelve hours, and now your acting like a schoolgirl with her first crush."  
  
"Is it really that bad?" Sylia asked.  
  
"Yes! Right now you could give Linna moping lessons. She isn't this bad after she'd broken up with a guy, let alone when she's with one."  
  
"And what about you and Leon?"  
  
Priss glared at her. "You're changing the subject."  
  
"Am I really?" asked Sylia softly. "From the way you kissed him this after- noon, it looks like he finally got to you."  
  
"I was thanking him for saving my life," the singer grumbled.  
  
"I'd believed that if I hadn't seen how much you enjoyed kissing him." Sylia turned to look at her. "And Leon's reaction was interesting. Do  
you want to tell me about it?"  
  
Priss leaned back, folded her arms and glowered at her friend. Finally she said. "This never leaves the room. Got it?"  
  
"I understand." Sylia walked back to her chair and sat.  
  
Priss, slowly at first, then with more smoothness as she continued, told Sylia everything that had happened from the time Nene had left her with the Black Knights to the time Leon had delivered her back to the Knight Sabers. Sylia sat quietly, taking small sips from her coffee as she listened.  
  
After Priss finished, Sylia asked, "What are your feelings about Leon?"  
  
Priss looked uncomfortable. "I don't know," she finally admitted. "For a while there, he was the opposite of his usual image of 'Mr. Macho'  
and I found him attractive. But actual romance? I don't know."  
  
Sylia sighed. "Now you know how I feel." She shook her head slowly. "Why did it have to be now, for both of us?"  
  
Priss looked at her blankly. "What?"  
  
"How many relationships have you had since you joined the Knight Sabers?"  
  
"Not many," admitted the singer. "The longest one lasted only about three weeks. Leon's the closest thing I've had to a steady relationship  
the last three years."  
  
"I've had even less," said Sylia quietly. "In some corners of the city they still call me ' the Ice Queen'. There was a time when I had to turn down several dates in a week."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"I couldn't afford to have a relationship with someone who I wasn't one hundred percent sure of." She was silent for a moment, then continued. "There were too many men who saw me as a chance fore the rich life, others as a chance to parade me as a 'Trophy Wife'."  
  
"I know what you mean," replied Priss. "But you think Greg is different?"  
  
"I honestly don't know. He doesn't need the money -- MALCORP makes more in a day then my entire fortune is worth, and his family is the largest shareholder by far. He also isn't the type to settle for an intellectual inferior as a wife."  
  
"Sounds like a snob."  
  
"In his position, he can afford to be. I also found him to be a lot like me -- the same opinions about some subjects and the willingness to do something about it. At times, it was like looking in a mirror."  
  
"I found him to be arrogant windbag," said Priss flatly.  
  
Sylia shook her head. "Not arrogance," she said. "He has a self-confidence in him he uses like a weapon. That's why I'm uncertain about  
him. I don't know why I'm attracted to him."  
  
"Sitting up all night thinking about it isn't going to solve the problem." Priss stood and continued, "Get some sleep and start worrying about it tomorrow."  
  
"I can't." Sylia replied. "I was getting ready to activate the emergency beacon when you came in. We now know where Janie VanDell is."  
  
"We're going to rescue her tonight?"  
  
"The Knight Sabers have a meeting with the Black Knights at three-thirty this morning."  
  
"That's moving fast."  
  
"If our information is right, Janie is in serious condition -- serious enough to die if we wait too long."  
  
"All right. Let me get dressed."  
  
Sylia shook her head. "You're staying here."  
  
"Oh no you don't!" Priss snarled. "You're not keeping me out of this!"  
  
"You're in no condition to go into action."  
  
"I don't care. If it's as bad as you say it is, you're going to need all the help you can get!"  
  
"In what?" asked Sylia mildly. "Your hardsuit is a total loss, and your backup suit isn't up to the task." She stood carefully. "You need to rest more then you need to be with us."  
  
"And how far can you trust these Black Knights?" yelled Priss. "They're mercenaries!"  
  
"So are the Knight Sabers."  
  
The silence drifted between them like a fog. "Why?" Priss asked finally. "What do you know about them that makes you trust them?"  
  
"Because Greg Mallory is the leader of the unit," said Mackie from the doorway.  
  
Priss turned to look at him. "He's what?"  
  
"Greg Mallory is Knight One," said Sylia in a flat, emotionless voice."He was the one who put the Black Knights together."  
  
"Just like . . . you putting the Knight Sabers together," Priss whispered. "You weren't kidding when you said you two had a lot in common."  
  
"I'm having a hard time believing it too," said Mackie as he walked into the room. "Sis, I'll start prepping the suits after I alert the others."  
  
Sylia gave him a slight nod. "Thank you, Mackie."  
  
"Do you want to use the Knight Wing tonight?"  
  
"I think we should. Make sure it's fully armed and prepped for ground support."  
  
"Sure thing, Sis. Do you want me to prep Priss' backup suit?"  
  
"Let me stay with Mackie in the Knight wing," said Priss quickly. "I can man the weapon systems while he does the flying."  
  
"I could use the help," said Mackie. "If I had a choice, I would prefer concentrating on the flying end of the equation."  
  
Sylia took a deep breath, held it, then exhaled slowly. "All right," she said firmly. "Priss, you can suit up and give Mackie a hand by manning  
the weapons systems on the Knight Wing. But that's all you do. If you try and get involved on the ground, I'll not only lock you in a room with Leon,  
I'll supply the rope so he can tie you to the bed! Then, we'll find out if he's into that sort of thing. Am I clear?"  
  
"We could always film it," suggested Mackie, with a glint in his eye. "I'm sure Leon would want a copy."  
  
"That's not a bad idea," said Sylia.  
  
Priss eyes widened at Sylia's threat and Mackie's proposition. "You wouldn't!" she managed to breathe.  
  
"Try me," said Sylia in a low voice, a trace of a smile on her face. "I know if I left you here, you'd just follow. At least this way, I know where you are at all times."  
  
"All right!" huffed Priss." You win. I'll stay in the aircraft with Mackie. Satisfied?"  
  
"For now. Mackie, Prep Priss' backup suit and let's get going."  
  
Mackie smiled. "Now you're beginning to sound like your old self." He turned and briskly walked out of the room. Priss followed, but not before scowling at Sylia. The leader of the Knight Sabers responded with a raised eyebrow, but said nothing.  
  
After the door closed behind them, Sylia folded her arms and allowed herself to sigh. "Is my old self good enough for the future?" she asked  
quietly.  
  
 ************  
**  



	33. Chapter 33

========================================================= ========  
  
 **Chapter 33  
  
GLAS Condominium Complex  
District 2  
Sunday, December 23, 2035  
1:54am  
  
** The GLAS Condominium Complex was made up of four towers, each seventy-five stories high, centered around a hundred stories tall central tower. Over fourteen thousand people called the complex home, as did a dozen shops, three restaurants and two bars. The security and general maintenance was provided by a human- supervised boomer force. It was nice place to live.  
  
Until now.  
  
Two cars stopped by the rear entry doors of the South Tower. The cars were nondescript models, notable only for their tinted windows. The doors opened and six people stepped out in the cold night. The car's engines were still running, a sign the cars were still manned.  
  
Two of the six had the height and mass of Boomers in their human disguises, and seemed impervious to the cold. The other four appeared  
to be human, but all were bundled warmly against the chill to the point that it was impossible to distinguish anything about them. With one Boomer  
leading and the other brining up the rear, the six strode up to the rear entry doors and went inside.  
  
A short corridor led to the main lobby. The lobby was not overly large, but was nicely furnished. A alcove had a couch and a couple of overstuffed chairs, while a couple of plastic plants flanked the glass doors of the main entrance. Next to the short hallway, a bank of four elevators led to the upper floors and two corridors branched off at right angles to the elevators leading to offices on the rest of the first floor. There was a small desk and two doors leading to small offices, one on each side of the lobby.  
  
The lobby was almost deserted. A single D-class Boomer was on duty as a doorman standing behind the desk. It scanned the group as they walked in, noting that none of the faces it saw matched anyone on its resident database. "Can I help you?" it asked, moving towards them.  
  
A lavender-haired woman pulled her parka hood back. "Is Mr. Satoshi Asamizu at home?" she asked in a cool voice.  
  
"I'm sorry," replied the Boomer doorman. "But that is a question I cannot answer, and I must --"  
  
"GENOM override code Alpha-seven-one-one-five-three-two-nine-four-Mu."  
  
The doorman stiffened. "Override accepted."  
  
Kate Madigan nodded. The override code was standard programming on D-class Boomers, allowing a GENOM employee to override the Boomer's programming in certain cases. Very few people know of the override's existence, but it was very useful when stealth was important. She now had complete control over this Boomer.  
  
"You will answer all my questions, fully and completely. Do you understand?"  
  
"Yes," replied the Boomer.  
  
"How long have you been on duty?"  
  
"Since eleven o'clock this evening."  
  
Madigan nodded again. "Is Mr. Satoshi Asamizu at home?"  
  
"Yes. He came in about eleven forty-five tonight."  
  
"Is he still living in apartment 2905?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Is he alone?"  
  
"He came in alone. I do not know if there was someone else waiting for him in his apartment."  
  
"Does he live alone?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"All right," said Madigan. "Listen carefully. Sixty seconds from now, you will go to your recharge station and power down for forty-five  
minutes. After you finish recharging, you will wipe the preceding hour from your memory files, including all record of this conversation. Do you understand?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Execute orders." Madigan watch the doorman walk away, then turned to look at one of the Boomers. "Stay here," she said. "Find a place where you can observe the lobby without attracting attention. You are to take action only if you are threatened by significant force directed at you, the mission is being threatened, or I give you a direct order. Understand?"  
  
The disguised Boomer nodded and moved away, searching for a place where it could carry out the orders. The other five, led by Madigan, moved to the elevators and entered the first available car. One of the humans, a scar-faced man by the name of Tebba, pressed the button for the twenty-ninth floor. "Any last orders, Ma'am?" he asked.  
  
Madigan frowned. "I want to be out of here in less then fifteen minutes. Lopez, you hold the elevator. I do not want any public display  
of weapons unless the situation calls for it. And if the situation calls for it, we will all be in a lot of trouble. If we run into any night owls, flash those badges first. Satoshi Asamizu is to be taken ALIVE and as in as good a shape as can be managed -- which means he has to be able to talk coherently. If any one of you screw up, it will be the last time you EVER screw up. Understand?"  
  
The humans, well-versed in this sort of operation, merely nodded. The Boomer didn't move, but Madigan didn't expect any problems from it -- it would follow any orders she gave it.  
  
The elevator doors opened and the five moved out into the hall. Lopez placed his foot in the door's path, preventing them from closing. He  
unzipped his parka and made sure he could reach either the badge in his coat pocket or the compact machine pistol under his arm, then nodded to  
Madigan. Their escape route now secure, the team moved on to the target.  
  
Apartment 2905 was thirty meters down the left side of the hall. The team arrayed itself on each side of the door, with the exception of the  
Boomer, who stood across the hall from the door. Madigan motioned Tebba toward the door. The man nodded and pulled out a long tube which was as thick around as his thumb. Moving carefully, he got down on one knee and pushed on end under the door. He attached an eyepiece to the end of the tube in his hand and stared into it. After thirty seconds of silence, Tebba pulled the tube out from under the door and put the rolled up tube in his pocket. "Clear," he said in a low voice. "Kobe, start working."  
  
A bony Asian man switched places with Tebba and began picking the door's lock, while the others kept watch. Twenty seconds later, Kobe reached out and turned the handle. It opened silently.  
  
Tebba and Kobe went through the door first, moving slowly and carefully, their guns drawn and tracking. Madigan and the other man,  
a muscular, hard-faced man by the name of Steesen, were next, then the Boomer stepped inside and closed the door.  
  
There was enough light coming through the widows to see the interior of the apartment. Like the lobby, the condominium was nicely furnished, though somewhat sterile. A small kitchen was to the immediate right of the front door, while the living room too up most of the visible vicinity. A short hallway beyond the kitchen lead to two closed doors, while a pair of sliding doors occupied the middle of the living room's left wall.  
  
Madigan moved to the sliding doors, She pulled them apart slightly, just enough to peer into the room behind it. The heavy desk and  
computer system in one corner of the room told her this was Asamizu's study. _Excellent,_ she thought.  
  
She motioned to Steesen, who glided over. He glanced through the crack between the doors and nodded, a small smile crossing his face. Carefully, he slid open the door just wide enough to allow himself to fit through and slipped in. He moved to the desk, and sat in front of the computer. Moving carefully, he pulled out a small box from the inside pocket of his parka and set it down next to the computer. In a matter a ninety seconds, he'd attached the box to the computer and turned it on. Looking up at Madigan, he nodded once.  
  
She turned to look at Tebba, then glanced at the hall off of the kitchen. Tebba nodded, and moved towards the hall with swift, cat-like  
steps. Kobe joined him then and the holstered their pistols and pull out another weapon. They were both pistols of some sort, with a thick long  
barrel and oversized hand grips. Moving silently, they snuck down the hall until they reached the first door. Tebba opened it slowly, just enough to glance inside. He closed the door softly, turned to look at Madigan and shook his head. Without waiting for an acknowledgment from their boss, the two GENOM Black Ops members moved toward the other door.  
  
Again, Tebba opened the door slowly, just enough to glace inside. This time, he gave Madigan a nod. She returned it with one of her own,  
her hand hovering near the butt of her own pistol. While Kobe held the door so it wouldn't open any further, Tebba pointed the strange looking  
pistol at something inside the room. After five seconds, a sound like someone sneezing was heard, then silence. Tebba slipped into the room,  
followed by Kobe. After another five seconds, Kobe opened the door all the way and waved Madigan to come ahead.  
  
By the time Madigan reached the doorway, Kobe had stepped aside to allow her to see past him. It was a bedroom, furnished in the same style of the living room. Tebba was checking the only occupant in the bed, a shallow looking man with thinning hair and unhealthy skin. Madigan compared him with the photograph of Satoshi Asamizu she had in her memory and found them to be the same. _Got you!_ her mind exclaimed, but she kept her face impassive.  
  
"How is he?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.  
  
"He's out," replied Tebba, his voice also low. "The dart hit him clean."  
  
"Secure him." She stepped back to allow the men to bound their prisoner. She touched a button on her comline. "Leader to all posts,"  
she subvocalized. "Status reports."  
  
Like the other humans on this mission, Madigan wore a transceiver/transmitter system designed for covet operations. Consisting of two patches that looked and felt like skin, they had a range of only two kilometers, but they allowed the few communications between the team members to be conducted almost silently.  
  
//Car one, clear.//  
  
//Car two clear.//  
  
//Lobby, clear.//  
  
//Elevator, clear.//  
  
"Stand by, Target has been secured. We are preparing to leave." As she said the last words, she strode out of the bedroom and walked over to the study. "How long?" she asked Steesen.  
  
"Three minutes," he replied. "I'm transferring everything on Asamizu hard drive to a secure directory on a Tower security server."  
  
"Any disks?"  
  
He tapped a pocket of his parka. "All the ones I could find, but it's possible that he has some hidden away. I would have looked for them,  
but I thought the transfer was more important."  
  
She strode over to the sliding doors and leaned out. Tebba and Kobe had just finished placing a securely bound Satoshi Asamizu at the feet of the Boomer, who hadn't move from its spot just inside the front door. She motioned for the two humans to come into the study, then looked at the Boomer and pointed at Asamizu. The Boomer nodded, but made no other movement.  
  
After Kobe and Tebba enter the room, Madigan said softly, "Search for any hidden documents or disks. We have two and a half minutes."  
  
The scattered across the room. Tebba started flipping through books from a tall narrow bookcase, looking for any loose papers, while Kobe started navigating through a entertainment center cabinet. Madigan began flipping pictures, looking for anything taped on the back of them The third one she turned over yielded paydirt.  
  
A pair of disks had been heavily taped to the back of the painting. Pulling out a small penknife, she carefully cut through the tape and  
pocketed the disks. She continuing searching until Steesen said softly, "Transfer complete."  
  
"We're going," said Madigan.  
  
Without a word, the four left the study. At the door, Steesen and Kobe picked up the drugged director. Tebba opened the door and looked out. "Coast clear."  
  
"Leader to all posts," Madigan subvocalized. "We are leaving. Status reports."  
  
//Car one, clear.//  
  
//Car two clear.//  
  
//Lobby, clear.//  
  
//Elevator, clear.//  
  
"We're moving."  
  
The moved down the hallway swiftly, Tebba leading the way, followed by Steesen and Kobe carrying the unconscious Asamizu. Madigan followed, with the Boomer bringing up the rear. Lopez held the elevator door until the entire party was in the car. Just as the doors closed, the receiver behind Madigan's right ear. //Lobby here. Two people have enter the building. One male, one female.//  
  
"Threat assessment?" asked Madigan.  
  
//Minimal,// replied the Boomer, allow some disgust to enter his tone. //They are both too drunk to walk straight.//  
  
"What are they doing?"  
  
//Heading towards the elevators. ETA is fifteen seconds.//  
  
Madigan glanced over at Lopez, who was standing nearest the elevator controls. "Stop this car."  
  
Lopez jabbed a thumb on a button marked "7" and glanced up at the floor indicator, which showed a lighted "12". The car came to a stop  
and the doors opened. With one hand holding the door open, Lopez leaned out and looked up checked the hall to make sure it was empty. Clear," he said softly.  
  
"Status on those two drunks?" snapped Madigan into the transmitter.  
  
There was silence for several seconds, then the Boomer said, //They've just pushed the up button and are now waiting for an elevator. Do you wish me to eliminate them?//  
  
"No. Report when they get into an elevator."  
  
//Understood.// Five seconds went by, then ten. Ten more seconds crawled by before the Boomer said, //They've just entered an elevator  
car.//  
  
Lopez released the door and jammed his finger savagely against the button for the lobby. As the doors closed, Madigan said "We're coming down. Lobby, meet us at the elevator."  
  
//Understood.//  
  
The sudden opening of the elevator doors several seconds later almost startled Madigan and it took her a split second to realize the car had reached the lobby. The second Boomer was there to greet them. As a group they, strolled out of the lobby, with the lobby Boomer taking the point, followed by Madigan and Tebba, then Kobe, Steesen, and Lopez carrying the bound Asamizu, with the other Boomer bringing up the rear. Despite their success so far, no one was willing to relax.  
  
They retraced their steps, moving at a brisk walk through the hall and out into the cold night. The cars were waiting and they swiftly got in. The cars drove away from the building at a sate speed, not wanting to attract attention even at this late a stage. Silence descended on the complex.  
  
The Johnston and Brindle tower construction site was adjacent to the GLAS Condominium Complex. Over in one sector of the site, three dozen construction Boomers stood silently, waiting for the human supervisor to activate them for the next shift.  
  
Five minutes after Asamizu had been shoved into a car and driven off, a slight hum emanated from three of the construction Boomers. An eerie red glow began to issue from their eye slits. If any human experienced with Boomers had seen this, they would have turn and run, convinced the Cyberdroid was possessed.  
  
They wouldn't be far from the truth.  
  
The trio of Boomers began to move slowly, gaining fluidness and purpose as they continued. All three stared at the South Tower, a glittering beacon in the night sky. As one, they move toward it at a firm pace. They ripped through the steel mesh fence that separated the two properties and continued on, their gazes never leaving the Tower, their minds on one thing - destruction. . . .  
  
 ************  
  
Sylia's Apartment  
Sunday, December 23, 2035  
1:58am  
  
** Sylia looked at the four sitting around the table. Both Linna and Nene had the bleary look of people woken out of sound sleeps. Priss looked agitated, while Mackie acted like the meeting wasn't a big deal. He placed a large cup of coffee in from of the red-haired Hacker, then sipped for his own cup. "What's the plan?" he asked, looking at his sister.  
  
Sylia allow the cold mask of leadership fall into place. The emotional voice inside of her took the cue and vanished from her mind for the  
time being. "We've got a planning session with the Black Knight at three-thirty today," she said quietly. "We've located the VanDell girl, and we are probably going to try and rescue her before dawn."  
  
She glanced at each of them, looking for any argument or decent. There was none. Both Nene and Linna didn't feel like voicing any strong opinions, while Priss had already taken her best shot at Sylia's plan. "Where's the meet?" the singer asked.  
  
"We're to meet a Black Knight at the corner of Two-Twelve and Jiro in District Four at three o'clock. He'll lead up to the meeting location."  
  
"I still don't like it," Priss grumbled.  
  
"That's why the three of up are going to show up at the meeting riding our Motoslaves - in this case, I'll be riding yours tonight, Priss. You and Mackie will be covering us from the air." Sylia looked at her brother. "The Knight Wing ready?"  
  
"All set and ready to go," replied Mackie with a smile. He motioned toward Priss. "There should be enough firepower on it tonight to keep the ape woman happy."  
  
Priss gave him a cold stare while Linna and Nene giggled. Sylia arched an eyebrow, but said nothing. Mackie just sat back and smirked.  
  
"I almost like it better when you were a pervert," she muttered.  
  
Mackie shrugged. "If you want, I can hide a camera or two in the dressing rooms, for old times' sake, of course."  
  
"Don't you dare!" Nene squealed, suddenly awake. She reached over and punched him in the shoulder.  
  
"Ow!" he yelled, rubbing his arm and leaning away so the angry redhead couldn't follow up. "I was joking!"  
  
"I don't care!" Nene exclaimed back. "You're mine and you're not going to even look at another girl!"  
  
It was Priss' turn to laugh and she made the most of it. Linna joined here and this time Sylia chuckled softly. Nene turned to glare at them.  
"What's so funny?" she demanded.  
  
"You just told them that I'm your boyfriend," said Mackie with a wry grin.  
  
"I what?!" Nene's face became flush as Mackie's words sunk it. Eyes wide, she turned to Sylia. "I'msorryitwon'thappenagainIpromise," she blurted.  
  
"I have no problem if you and Mackie want to date," said Sylia with a smile. "He's old enough to make his own decisions."  
  
"Besides," said Priss lazily, "It's not like this is unexpected. We figure the two of you were an item about two years back."  
  
"At least," chimed in Linna.  
  
"But why didn't anyone tell me?" wailed Nene.  
  
"We can discuss your romance with Mackie later," said Sylia. "Right now, there's a girl that needs rescuing."  
  
That sobered everyone up. Sylia continued. "According to Fargo, Janie is in the Headquarters building of G&B- Japan. We're going to coordinate a strike with the Black Knights on the building before daybreak. As I said, we're going to meet up with a guide at three o'clock and he'll take us to the meeting spot. Mackie, you and Priss fly cover. I'll leave a channel open for you to monitor at all times. Nene, I want the floor  
plans and anything else you can find on the G&B building downloaded into the suits' ROM. Linna, Make sure the Knight Wing has extra magazines for the Motorslave's cannons."  
  
"Right!" Nene and Linna chorused.  
  
"Mackie, you and Priss get the Knight Wing warmed up. I'll make sure the Motorslaves are ready. We have thirty minutes before we leave. Let's make the most of it."  
  
 ************  
  
Gulf and Bradley - Japan Headquarters  
Sunday, December 23, 2035  
2:25am  
  
** Carlton Bradley frowned at Hachio Ozu. "How did the attack fail?" he said in a soft voice.  
  
"It failed because Karns was waiting for them," the security chief replied. "Unlike the ADP, he doesn't worry about things like 'excessive  
firepower' or 'collateral damage'. He eliminated the Boomers and most of the human contingent of the strike teams."  
  
"Can they be traced back to us?"  
  
"No, Sir. The Boomers were the ones who recruited and led the attacks. None of the lowlifes ever had a direct connection to us here. There's no evidence left to show our involvement."  
  
"How did this Karns get all that firepower?' asked Cora. She was sitting on the couch in the corner of the office, watching her brother  
who was leaning back in his chair, staring at Ozu.  
  
The security chief shrugged. "He's been the defacto leader of that district for years, and those who've challenged him in the past, most  
never lived long enough to realize their mistake. I'm not kidding when I say they've probably got better weapons then the ADP does. That's one  
of the reasons why I thought Malso was a better target"  
  
"It looks like our plans have hit a. . .snag," said Carlton carefully. "Is the extra security in place?"  
  
"Yes Sir, but--"  
  
"But what?" whispered Cora, her eyes narrow and focused at Ozu.  
  
"But our preparations were rather obvious to anyone watching us. We will not have the advantage of surprise."  
  
"The advantage is meaningless," replied Carlton bruskly. "Has Mclaren finished repairing the Boomers from the MALCORP raid?"  
  
"He said he can have eight ready before three. The other two that came back are too badly damaged to fight. Do you want them brought here?"  
  
Carlton swivelled in his chair and stared out into the night skyline. "No," he said finally. "Station them in a building near by. If we are  
attacked, they will wait until the signal is given. Then they will strike the enemy from behind while we hit them from the front."  
  
Ozu nodded. "I understand Sir."  
  
Carlton waved a hand. "You're dismissed. Make sure the new measures are in place before you go to bed."  
  
"Yes, Sir." Ozu strode out of the office.  
  
"Which guests are we expecting?" asked Cora with a purr.  
  
Carlton frowned, but didn't look at his sister. "Maybe the Black Knights, or the Knight Sabers, or maybe both. If Quincy is on to us,  
maybe GENOM."  
  
"That's too many 'maybes' for my liking," said Cora with a scowl.  
  
Carlton's expression changed. "Nothing great starts out with all the facts known. We are close to success."  
  
"We are just as close to disaster."  
  
"A disaster you came close to causing."  
  
Cora leapt off the couch, the scowl becoming a glare. "Don't you dare blame me for the bitch's suicide attempt!" she snapped.  
  
Carlton turned to look at his sister. "Then who do I blame?" he asked mildly. "The security people? They were following your orders."  
  
Cora's jaw tightened. "I wanted that girl isolated," she spat.  
  
"If we wanted to do that, we could have used security boomers to interact with the girl and avoided all direct human involvement. But you  
wanted to use her + for your 'amusement'."  
  
"I was getting her ready for that Chinese geezer."  
  
Carlton raised an eyebrow. "The doctor did not need your help." he said flatly.  
  
"I don't know why you hired him in the first place."  
  
"Because I wanted the girl alive long enough to tell us everything." He held up a hand, cutting off Cora's angry retort. "Go lie down. There's no telling when the attack will come, if not tonight."  
  
Cora held her brother's stare for a moment, then looked away. "You don't love me," she said softly.  
  
"Love has nothing to do with it," said Carlton bruskly. "We cannot allow our emotions to run loose, not when we're this close to success."  
  
Cora nodded slowly, then turned and walked out of the office. Carlton waited until she closed the door behind her before he leaned back and rubbed his eyes. _Cora's becoming too unstable_ , he thought. _But she can't crap out on me now, not when we're this close!  
  
_ He sighed and stood. _I'd better check on the VanDell girl.  
  
_ By the time he reached the door to the outer office, two of his bodyguards had fallen in behind him. By the time he reached the elevator, two more Boomers had joined the group, making the elevator cramped. "Seventh floor," he said to the Boomer nearest the elevator controls.  
  
The ride to the seventh floor was short, but the walk to the building's medical center was twice as long. Two more Boomers stood outside the ward, their expressions unreadable as Bradley approached.  
  
"Is Doctor Kyso here?"  
  
"She is currently sleeping, Sir," replied one of the Boomers "There are two nurses who are currently monitoring the patient."  
  
Carlton nodded. "You," he commanded, waving to the bodyguard to his right. "Come with me. The others can stay here until I return." He opened the medical center's main doors and stalked into the reception area, the lone Boomer following as ordered.  
  
The medical center didn't have quite the range of equipment of a full hospital, but it was a modern, well-furnished center that could do almost anything its larger counterpart could do. This was the first time Bradley had ever been in the center. He'd avoided it when he was given his first tour of the building, and he had seen no reason to step foot inside -- until now.  
  
The reason for shunning this place wasn't complicated; Carlton Bradley hated hospitals. The smell of strong disinfectant always left him nauseated, as did the sight of people dying, either though chance or design. He'd seen his grandfather die in a hospital, his body ravaged by cancer. The last time he had been in any sort of medical institution had been to visit the morgue to identify his father's body. To him, a hospital was a death house.  
  
He didn't need to be reminded of his mortality -- his fathers death had been enough for his taste. _Pity I couldn't kill the bastard myself_.  
  
A nurse sitting behind a desk looked up at him, and paled in shock. "Can I help you sir?" she asked quickly.  
  
"I want to see Doctor Kyso," replied Carlton with a glare, "and I want to see her now."  
  
"Yes sir." She reached over and picked up a telephone handset off the desk. She touched a button and waited for the connection to be  
completed. "Doctor Kyso? Reiko at the front desk. Mr Bradley is here to see you. . . .Yes, Doctor, I know what time it is, but Mr. Bradley is most insistent. . . . Yes, Doctor I will tell him that." She put the handset down. "Doctor Kyso will be out in a minute," she softly said to Carlton.  
  
It was closer to ninety seconds before the doctor appeared, looking haggard and unhappy. "Can I help you sir?" she asked.  
  
"I'm checking up on the girl's condition."  
  
Kyso shook her head. "There's nothing new. She's still in critical condition."  
  
"I see. Can I see her for myself?"  
  
"Of course. This way." Kyso led Bradley and his bodyguard to a small room near the far end of the ward. Next to the door, a large  
window, reinforced with thick security glass, showed the interior of the room. There was a hospital bed, with several banks of monitors clustered  
around it, like vultures huddled around a carcass. In the bed, A pale face nearly as white as the pillow it laid on was framed by lifeless brown  
hair. Several tubes ran from different devices to either into her mouth or up the nostrils. Her arms, as pale as her face, each had an IV inserted  
into the veins. The rest of her body was covered by a grey blanket, but there was the impression of great weakness. Only the slight movement of  
her chest and the soft beeps of the monitors indicated that Janie VanDell was still alive.  
  
"Do you wish to go in?" Kyso asked. "If you do, I would recommend that you wear a surgical mask."  
  
Bradley shook his head. "This is good enough. How good are her chances?"  
  
Kyso stared at the injured girl for several seconds. "If she was healthy, I would say she would have an 80% chance."  
  
"But?"  
  
"But her health isn't good. In fact, I believe she's been subjected to grievous abuse." Kyso stared at Bradley, and he saw anger in her  
eyes. "She has no more then a 40% chance of surviving now."  
  
"I see."  
  
"Do you?" snapped Kyso. "What did this girl do to warrant so much abuse?"  
  
"That is none of your concern."  
  
"Isn't it? You want me to keep her alive for what?"  
  
"That is none of your concern."  
  
"It is MY concern. Because of her general condition, that girl is having to fight for every breath she takes. I've treated strung-out  
junkies that were in better condition then this girl!"  
  
Carlton's voice was frigid. "There's a difference between this girl and those junkies that you should remember."  
  
"What?"  
  
"I'm not paying you to keep those junkies alive. I'm paying you to keep her alive."  
  
"I can't work miracles!"  
  
"In this case, you had better hope you can."  
  
Kyso glared at Bradley for several seconds, then turned and stalked off. The CEO ignored her departure and continued to watch the young girl that had so much riding on her recovery. he thought,  
  
As he watched her, his thoughts drifted back to his childhood. . . .  
  
 _What childhood?_ part of his mind snarled. _You and your sister were nothing more then trophies of Carson Bradley's, just like everything else he'd owned. The old man was a arrogant, drunken son-of-a-bitch who never gave a damm for either one of you. All he cared about was money and power, in that order. The only times he even acknowledged your existence was when he needed a punching bag because Mother wasn't around.  
  
_ Carlton took a deep breath. _And just when I'm ready to finally do something about him, the bastard gets himself killed! Damm GENOM! Damm the Chang Group! And most of all, DAMM YOU, FATHER!  
  
_ He had dreams for years of killing his father, to see his face as the old man realized that his own flesh and blood was murdering him. It  
was the one thing that had kept him going through his teenage years. A dream that had been shattered when a Genki Battlemover had done the  
job for him, another person following up on vengeance. At the morgue, he saw the look on his father's face, the look of surprise that he had  
been dreaming about for years. It should have been enough.  
  
It wasn't.  
  
Instead of feeling relief, the anger had changed focus. It's targets became the Chang Group and GENOM, two of the principals that robbed Carlton of his dreams. Carson Bradley had escaped his reach, but Quincy and Dr. Chang Chongk were still within his grasp. They would suffer in place of his father.  
  
But, he needed an edge. He couldn't outspend or out-muscle GENOM -- their resources were too great. The Chang Group was an impenetrable wall of loyalty and duty that would be difficult to breech. No, Carlton needed something the other two didn't have - a weapon or technology that would give him the upper hand long enough to complete his task.  
  
When word reached him of Dr. VanDell's work, he knew then he had his edge. He had let Cora plan and carry out the raids on the Doctor's lab and home, because her talents in the areas of tactics and planning were superior to his own. While Carlton had focused his anger directly at his father, Cora had decided that the entire world should feel her wrath. Her slide into madness had been slow but steady for years, but  
Carlton needed her. She was the one person he could trust and depend upon in this world of backstabbing and broken deals.  
  
 _And now my vengeance is dependent on a stupid teenager!_ his mind screamed. His hands curled up into fists and felt his anger rising. He glared at the unconscious girl. He screamed at her mentally, _You will not be allowed to die until I have all of those plans!  
  
_ "Sir?" asked the Boomer. "Are you all right?"  
  
Carlton's smile was feral. "You're several years too late asking that question," he said in whisper. He turned and walked away, the Boomer silently following him. H said silently, _And no one will stand in my way. . . .  
  
_ ************  
  
**  



	34. Chapter 34

========================================================= ========  
  
 **Chapter 34  
  
GENOM Tower  
Sunday, December 23, 2035  
3:21am  
  
** Quincy looked up from the report on his desk. "I see Mr. Azamizu has some explaining to do," he said cooly.  
  
"He is still being 'debriefed'," replied Madigan briskly, "but I thought you should see this as soon as possible."  
  
The Chairman leaned back in his chair. "You were correct to do so." He was silent for a minute. "How bad is the damage to the GLAS complex?"  
  
"According to the news reports, most of the South Tower has already been destroyed. The death toll is already at seventy-three and rising. The ADP have managed to destroy two of the Boomers, but are still having problems with the third."  
  
"Any sign of the Knight Sabers?"  
  
"No, Sir. They have not been spotted yet. It's possible that they were incapacitated by the Thor strike from last night."  
  
"Possible," replied Quincy slowly. "But, considering their level of skill and luck in the past, I would not consider that a high probability."  
  
"Yes, Sir."  
  
"I think there's something else going on," he said, tapping the report, "something that requires the Knight Sabers."  
  
Madigan frowned. "Do you think they would attack Gulf and Bradley?"  
  
"It is a very good possibility, especially if they have anywhere near this type of information. If they have allied themselves with the Black  
Knights, then MALCORP will have that sort of information." Quincy stood and turned towards the window. "What is the situation with the Boomer rampage in District Six?"  
  
Madigan frowned at this sudden change in subjects, but kept her voice level. "We don't have all the details, but it seems someone tried  
to eliminate Skeeter Karns."  
  
"Indeed?" said Quincy pleasantly, watching the city below. "I take it they failed."  
  
"Yes sir. I'm afraid Mr. Tarson failed to have the Boomer remains released back to GENOM immediately."  
  
Quincy shrugged. "It's not surprising. Mr. Karns can be quite compelling at times."  
  
"I wouldn't know, Sir. I've never met him."  
  
"Indeed? I suggest you take the time and meet him. You will find the experience. . . enlightening."  
  
Madigan sniffed. "I don't have the time to meet every would-be gang warlord." She stopped as he hear her boss softly chuckle, a rare  
phenomenon. "Forgive my confusion," she said with a frown. "I don't understand."  
  
"Neither did the Red Cobras. That's why they no longer exist as a Triad." He turned and looked at her, his voice stern and strong. "Do not underestimate your opponent, no matter what they appear to be. Mr. Mason found that lesson out a little too late for his own good."  
  
The woman bowed her head. "Yes, Sir." She looked up again. "How do you want to handle this problem with the Boomers Asamizu sold to the Bradley twins?"  
  
Quincy frowned. "It seems that they are becoming more then minor pests," he said in a soft voice edged with steel. "While they don't stand  
a chance against GENOM, they might damage our image enough to give oth ers the same idea. We cannot allow that to happen."  
  
Yes, Sir."  
  
"What about the Boomers used in the New York incident? Were they part of the group Mr. Asamizu sold to Gulf and Bradley Japan?"  
  
"They were. We finished cracking the security encoding on the disks we found in his apartment a short time ago. We are fortunate that he was a compulsive record keeper."  
  
"Indeed." Quincy sighed. "To answer your question, as much as I dislike Janson Bradley, to move against Gulf and Bradley, as a whole, would be a waste of time and money with no significant returns. On the other hand, both Cora and Carlton Bradley have shown themselves to be reckless in their zeal to 'punish' GENOM for something we had no control over." He sat in his chair and looked at Madigan. I think it's about time we let Mr. and Miss Bradley know that we will not allow them to move against us."  
  
"In what way?"  
  
"I want a list of G&B holdings in MegaTokyo. I think there's going to be a string of unfortunate setbacks involving several of those sites  
tonight, including the G&B headquarters building."  
  
"Yes Sir. Any particular method do you wish us to employ?"  
  
"For most of the targets, I leave to your judgement. But for the headquarters building. . . . Do we not have a shipment of Military Boomers  
that is being readied for shipment to the government of Iraq?"  
  
"Yes Sir. Several dozen battle Boomers, including several models of the BU-12B series, Bu-15Bs, and 17s."  
  
"I think a dozen will be enough. Make sure the mix is enough to handle any situation."  
  
"Yes, Sir."  
  
"That is all for now."  
  
"May I ask a question?"  
  
Quincy looked up at her, a slight smile on his craggy face. "What is it?"  
  
"Are you going to allow Mr. Faust to continue his investigation?"  
  
"Of course. Mr. Faust has skills and abilities you do not have, as you possess proficiencies and expertises he does not have. Between  
the two of you, we will eliminate this. . .cancer." Quincy leaned back in his chair, allowing the shadows of the dimly-lit room to hide most of his face. "Mr. Faust is a loyal and hard-working employee who places the interest of GENOM above his own. He is a man any CEO will welcome as an assistant, and someone whose respect should be cultivated."  
  
"Yes Sir. I should have not doubted your wisdom."  
  
Quincy waved a hand in dismissal. "Mr. Faust is my responsibility. You have yours. Please see to them."  
  
 **************  
  
 **Warehouse #41526584  
District 4  
Sunday, December 23, 2035  
3:34am  
  
** The meeting at the rendezvous point had gone off without a hitch. The corner of Two-Twelve and Jiro in District Four was a burnt-out convenience store that was shunned by the locals. With the KnightWing flying high cover, the three motorslaves had arrived three minutes before the appointed time. A minute later, a female Black Knight stepped out of the darkness and identified herself as Red Three. From the Knight's suit and voice, Sylia recognized Red Three as the one who had sliced apart the Boomer on the highway the night before. The actual trip to the warehouse took only fifteen minutes, but to Sylia, it seemed a lot longer.  
  
The warehouse was abuzz with light and life when the Black Knight led Sylia, Nene and Linna through the side door. Technicians were moving swiftly through the piles of provisions and machinery, most of them concentrating on the four helicopter gunships sitting in the center of  
the warehouse. There were at least a dozen members of the Black Knights scattered throughout the entire building, some in full hardsuits, while  
others were wearing just innersuits similar to the one Sylia has designed for her own team. Most of them turned and stared at the newcomers.  
  
 _Deciding if we're as good as we're suppose to be_ , thought Sylia. _We threw ourselves into the fight last night without warning. Now we're going to see if we can pull off a coordinated attack against an enemy expecting us.  
  
_ "Stay alert," she said into the common channel. "Mackie, Priss. Are you receiving us?"  
  
//Loud and clear Sis. We can be there in thirty seconds, if we need to be.//  
  
"Fine, but don't get too close. Stay alert." She looked over at Nene."Anything?"  
  
"Nothing excessive," replied the redhead. "I'm receiving strong ECM signals from at least three Knights, but nothing that actually pointed  
at us. From what I'm picking up, most of the suits are only half a generation behind ours. Those gunships are state-of-the-Art with the Neo-NATO designation of 'Rattlesnakes' and they're loaded to the gills with firepower."  
  
"Keep scanning."  
  
Now more familiar with the Knights's suits, Sylia began looking over the Knights' hardsuits, distinguishing in her mind between the  
different designs. One group were clearly geared for heavy fire support, being somewhat larger then the others and carrying weapons that Sylia  
knew wouldn't be compatible with her own hardsuit designs. Others, like Red Three's, hinted at hidden weapons and looked somewhat sleeker then the first group, certainly the close combat designs. The last group were subtly different from the others, with slight bulges in the armor  
that Sylia guessed were sensor and ECM pods. _Interesting choices_ , she thought. _Similar to my designs, but completely different at the same time. No signs of any motorslaves, however.  
  
_ "There seems to be more Knights running around then we saw last night," said Nene over the Saber's secure channel. "How many do you think there are?"  
  
"At least a dozen," replied Linna, "plus a couple of more helicopters. Do you think they call up reenforcements?"  
  
"They did," replied Sylia firmly. "Are you recording everything Nene?"  
  
"Un-hun. I'm sending it directly to the Knightwing's computer even as we speak."  
  
The Black Knight pointed to a office door twenty meters away. "Knight One asked to speak to alone first," she said over her suit's  
speakers. "He's in there."  
  
Sylia nodded, then said over the team's private channel. "You two stay here. Be ready for anything. Nene keep recording."  
  
Her teammates responded with 'affirmatives'. Walking briskly, Red Three led Sylia through the tangle of personnel and material to the  
office door. The Black Knight tapped on the door and waited. Finally, she said to Sylia. "He's ready to see you now," and opened the door.  
  
The office wasn't much - just a battered desk, chair, a couple of file cabinets and a lumpy looking sofa against the far wall. There weren't any windows, though the walls didn't look all that thick. The single occupant of the office also wore a hardsuit, leaning over a map spread out on the desktop. His face was hidden by his helmet, concealing his identity. Sylia recognized the hardsuit as the same type Knight One had worn.  
  
Knight One looked up as Sylia stepped into the room. The office wasn't especially large, but the presence of two people in hardsuits made the room seem smaller somehow. In the back of her mind, Sylia noted the door closed behind her, leaving the two of them alone.  
  
For five seconds, neither one spoke. Then, Knight One sighed and reached up to his helmet. "I guess I'll have to convince you I'm for real," he said and pushed up. The helmet was fashioned to resemble a medieval Knight's helmet, visor and all. The visor slowly slid up, reveling a  
familiar face with sharp features, short dark hair, and mismatched eyes.  
  
Greg Mallory.  
  
"Satisfied?" he asked.  
  
Sylia nodded and opened her own visor. The office grew silent again as they looked at each other. Sylia felt an updraft of emotion. _Here  
is someone who can understand me,_ a part of her mind echoed. _Here is someone who knows what it's like to led others into battle, to make those decision that I have to every day.  
  
_ The rational part of her mind rallied quickly. _Don't let emotion cloud your judgement! He is an ally for the time being, nothing more!  
  
_ _He doesn't want you for your money or to parade you around as a conquest. Women would flock to him in an instant, but he's sent his sights on you. He's undergone the same enhancements as you did.  
  
Does that mean I'm suppose to worship at his feet? I don't know him!  
  
Does that mean you're afraid to try?  
  
_ Greg waved toward the couch, breaking the silent impasse in Sylia's mind. "Would you like to sit?" he asked carefully, his tone serious. "I'm afraid the chair won't support the weight of both human and hardsuit."  
  
"I think I'll prefer standing," she replied, thankful for the interruption.  
  
Greg nodded. "I thought we should talk before we had the planning meeting. Agree on certain command decisions before hand."  
  
"Fine. Like what?"  
  
"Command authority, communication channels, material support, and the like."  
  
Sylia nodded slowly, her command mask slipping firmly into place. "Let's begin."  
  
 ************  
  
** Nene and Linna watched the preparations going on around them from an unused corner of the warehouse. Except for the occasional glance in their direction by a tech or Knight, they were left by themselves.  
  
"I've counted fifteen Knights so far," said Nene. "These guys are packing serious hardware, both in electronics and weaponry."  
  
"They why do we need us?" asked Linna, her eyes focused on a rugged-looking tech loading missiles into a Rattler's missiles launcher. "Looks like they've got enough firepower to take out GENOM tower."  
  
"Search me. But Sylia said to stay alert."  
  
//Anything happening down there, guys?// asked Priss.  
  
"Nothing," replied Linna. "I've seen some cute guys, some serious weaponry, but nothing exciting. How's Sylia doing?"  
  
//She discussing such exciting subjects as who's boss over who, what comm channels we're going to use, and what we're bringing to the party in firepower. Any more exciting and Mackie's going to fall asleep.//  
  
"He'd better not!" growled Nene.  
  
//I can keep him awake,// replied Priss with a husky voice. //Of course, we'll have to put the KnightWing on automatic pilot, but //  
  
"Don't you dare!" yelled Nene. "He's mine!"  
  
Priss chuckled. //Oh relax, little miss Cyberpunk. He's too young for me.//  
  
Linna saw a familiar face walking through the crowd and smiled. "I see someone a bit more mature for you right now."  
  
//Who?//  
  
"Leon."  
  
//Here's there?//  
  
Linna's smile became larger as she saw the Inspector change direction. "Yep, and he's heading toward us right now."  
  
//Don't you dare tell him that I'm with you guys!//  
  
"Why? Afraid you might like being tied to a bed?"  
  
The singer started making growling noises, then silence as Priss broke the connection.  
  
"That was mean," said Nene with a giggle. "Can I use that line next time?"  
  
"Go ahead."  
  
Leon walked up to them. "Good morning, Ladies," he said with a grin. "Come here often?"  
  
Nene sighed and cover her helmet's face with her hands in exasperation.  
  
"It's a good thing Blue Saber isn't here to see this," said Linna over the hardsuit's speakers. "She might just use you for target practice."  
  
Leon's expression became a little more serious. "Blue Saber doesn't have to worry about me hitting on her team mates, not after we talked. How is she by the way?"  
  
"About what you expect. She climbing the walls and is kind of pissed that she didn't come along. White threaten to allow you to tie her to a bed and tape it for your personal use if she didn't stop complaining."  
  
"She did? My type of leader."  
  
Just then, Priss voice came back over the communications channel. //Linna! We've spotted a convoy of vehicles heading in your direction!//  
  
Linna held up a hand to stop Leon from speaking. "How many?"  
  
//At least fifteen vehicles, including several trucks. They're five blocks away and closing.//  
  
A new voice broke in. "Any identification?" asked Sylia.  
  
//Negative, but several of those cars look like they've had armor added to their frames.//  
  
Nene nudged Linna. Linna looked at her team mate, who pointed at the sudden scramble for weapons and firing positions among the crates of the warehouse, while several groups of Knights dashed through several of the loading bay doors into the night.  
  
A sharp ringing attracted Linna's attention. She glanced over at the small cell phone on Leon's belt and tapped the distracted Inspector on the shoulder. When he turned to face her, she pointed at the phone. He glanced down at it, frowned and grabbed it off his belt. "Yes?. . .SKEETER! WHAT THE. . . outside right now?!?. . . .Don't come any closer, or we'll start a war!. . . .Let me get hold of Mr. Mallory. . . five minutes, no more. . . .Stop your people NOW!!"  
  
"What's going on?' asked Nene.  
  
Leon ignored the question and continued talking into the phone. "Just stay where you are, and I'll come out to you....Just don't come any  
closer....I do trust you, but the people I'm with don't know you. . . . I'm coming out right now." He broke the connection and took a deep breath.  
  
"Trouble?' asked Linna.  
  
"We have a visitor," said Leon angrily, replacing the phone on his belt, "and he's brought some of his friends along. You'd better stay here  
while I try and keep thing from becoming a war."  
  
"What's going on?" asked Sylia.  
  
"Leon was just talking to someone he called Skeeter. Does that ring a bell?"  
  
"It does. Skeeter Karns."  
  
//Skeeter's here?// said Priss. //Shit.//  
  
"Who's Skeeter Karns?" asked Linna. "I've never heard of him."  
  
"He's a gang leader," replied Nene tightly. "He's smart, well-organized and someone who you do not cross -- period."  
  
//Nene's right,// said Priss, her voice tense. //He's as big as a C-class boomer, and a hell of a lot smarter. The guy could intimidate  
a Doberman!//  
  
"I have dealt with him in the past," said Sylia cooly. "Both Nene and Priss are right. Mr. Karns is a gentleman of considerable abilities and  
fearsome reputation. However, he is out of his territory here, which tells me this isn't a social call."  
  
"Why did he call Leon?" asked Linna, her mind trying to put together a mental image of this Skeeter.  
  
//Skeeter's a different sort of of Gang Leader,// Priss replied. //He runs a clean operation in comparison to the other gangs in the city and he's willing to discuss certain things with the police.//  
  
Sylia continued, "Skeeter has an intelligence network in this city second only to GENOM, and that's maybe underplaying its scope. I've used him several times when Fargo's contacts don't have information I'm looking for. His data is always good, but expensive."  
  
//How do we play this?// asked Priss.  
  
"We wait," replied Sylia. "If Skeeter was here for battle, he would have announced himself by sending a hail of bullets and grenades through the front door and windows. He knew Leon was here and called him to talk. So, we let them talk."  
  
"I sure hope you know what you're doing," said Nene.  
  
"I do."  
  
**********  
  
By the time Leon reached the outside door, Jeena was waiting for him. "What's up?" she asked cheerfully.  
  
Leon scowled at her. "Skeeter's crashing the party."  
  
The one-armed woman smirked. "Oh? He must have a reason."  
  
"I'm about to find out. Want to come along?"  
  
"Sure. I want to see you in action."  
  
Leon went out the door, Jeena behind him. Once outside they turned left and started to walk towards a mass of lights in the middle distance. "Any idea why our semi-jolly giant wants in on this?" asked Jeena.  
  
"No, unless...." Leon stopped. Spying a shadow nearby, he walked over to it. The shadow move slightly to face him, light glittering off  
the burnished gold highlights of a Black Knight.  
  
"What do you want?' the shadow asked.  
  
"Are you guys monitoring the ADP channels?" Leon asked.  
  
"Yea."  
  
"Has there been anything about a battle in district six tonight?"  
  
"What sort of battle?"  
  
"A big nasty one."  
  
"Hold one." The Knight was silent for thirty seconds, then he said, "A quartet of BU-55's went rouge in district six shortly after midnight."  
  
"How much damage did they do?" asked Leon.  
  
"Not much. They run into person or persons unknown who took exception to their rampage, and turned them into junk outside of a bar."  
  
"Which bar?"  
  
"Some place called the Ri-San. The reports have some big guy tearing off the head of one of the Boomers."  
  
"That sounds like Skeeter," said Jeena with a nod.  
  
"Oh shit," muttered Leon. "He's pissed, isn't he?"  
  
"Very." Jeena smiled. "Now, I 'm glad I came along. This is going to be almost as much fun as watching you and your singer girlfriend getting  
together."  
  
Leon shot her a sour look. "We're going to have enough trouble without inviting him to this party."  
  
Jeena's expression became thoughtful. "Maybe we should include him in on this attack."  
  
"You're crazy!"  
  
"Am not," she responded with a small smile, "At least, not as crazy as the guys in the ADP." She became serious again. "But Skeeter's people are almost as good as the ADP in both equipment and tactics, plus the man is a near genius in irregular warfare. At the very least, they can take over some of the support positions we're going to need. Plus, his Intel is better then ours, and we're going to need every advantage we can get."  
  
"Excuse me," said the Knight, "But you'd better get up there pronto. There's a pissed off giant standing there with a couple of dozen armed people backing him up, and they're not getting any happier."  
  
"Right," said Leon. "Tell whoever is in charge up there we're coming. Make sure no one on our side fires first, and tell Knight One we may have a new player in this deal."  
  
"Right."  
  
"Let's go," Leon said to Jeena and the pair starting jogging towards the lights.  
  
As they jogged closer, Leon started picking out individuals in the bright lights of the convoy's headlights. A huge form could only be Skeeter stood in front of the first car, arms crossed. A lithe figure stood next to him, arms on her hips.  
  
"Leon!" a well-known voice bellowed.  
  
"Skeeter!' Leon bellowed back. "We're coming to talk!"  
  
"Come ahead!"  
  
Leon slowed to a walk, Jeena following his lead. They strode that last two dozen meters. When they got within five meters of the giant, the bright lights of the cars in the convoy dimmed to a more comfortable level."  
  
"Leon," said Skeeter quietly.  
  
"Skeeter." Leon glanced over at the woman beside the giant and grinned. "Chika. I don't suppose you want to go out for a drink later."  
  
The woman shrugged. "Not if you want to keep all you fingers."  
  
Jeena chuckled. "Stick with the singer, Rookie. That one's only libel to kill you quickly. Chika here is more likely to make you wish you were dead."  
  
For a brief instance, Leon made a woeful face. Then, with a shrug, he looked at Skeeter with a serious expression. "Is this a social visit, or what?"  
  
"I want in on your attack."  
  
"What attack?"  
  
"The one you are planning against Gulf and Bradley." Skeeter glowered at him. "And before you try and insult my intelligence by saying 'there's no attack', remember who you're talking to."  
  
"I don't know," said Leon with a frown. "It's not my say-so."  
  
"I know it isn't. But I bring a lot to this table."  
  
Leon changed tactics. "How bad were you hit tonight?"  
  
"Hard enough to make me angry. That's all you need to know."  
  
"How many people did you lose to the Boomers?"  
  
The giant's expression was grim. "You know about the Boomers. You know what kind of damage they can do."  
  
"I do. But you managed to take them all down quick enough."  
  
"Only because Gulf and Bradley made the mistake of underestimating me."  
  
Leon's jaw tightened. "How do you know it was G&B behind that attack against you? Why not GENOM or Shikichi Sato, or even one of the other criminal gangs? A lot of people weren't happy with what happened to Ronnie Yee."  
  
"Ronnie Yee did not listen to advice, and it cost him his life. As to the people behind the attack, it all comes down to a matter of timing. GENOM doesn't care about my turf right now, and no gang lord has the resources to waste Boomers in such an open and stupid fashion. Besides, there were several graduates from the _gurentai_ that were suppose to back up the Boomers. They were most willing to discuss the matter when I explained it to them."  
  
Jeena repressed a shudder. "No doubt."  
  
Skeeter looked at her. "I didn't even have to go so far as to threaten then, Miss Malso. They were very willing to talk to me without the menace of violence. These were the same people that hit the MALCORP freelancers last night."  
  
Leon took a deep breath. "Gulf and Bradley."  
  
"It's clear that the twins are beginning to panic. Once they find out about their failure, they will take stronger measures against MALCORP, you and myself. I have no intention of sitting back and waiting for another Boomer rampage to try and eliminate me. I intend to go on the offensive, starting this morning, with or without your alliance. I am here to offer myself and my people in your attack against G&B-Japan Headquarters."  
  
"We'll take it," said a new voice from the shadows. A silhouette moved from the blackness and walked into the light. Another shadow, smaller then the first followed. "Allies are always welcomed."  
  
Leon was startled. "You heard?"  
  
"Enough to be intrigued by the offer."  
  
"You must be Knight One," said Skeeter slowly to the black hardsuit..  
  
"You are well informed," said the Knight.  
  
"Well, he should be." said Leon. "This is Skeeter Karns, one of MegaTokyo's more interesting citizens."  
  
"It seems Mr. Mallory owes you a favor for the information about Janie."  
  
"If what Leon told me is correct," said Skeeter in a low voice, "I'll consider us even once the child is safe."  
  
"On that we can agree," said the Black Knight. "My ally said you were a person of honor, not to mention well-informed."  
  
"I stay abreast of what's happening in the city." Skeeter glanced over at the second shadow. "And that is something White Saber is well aware of."  
  
"It's been awhile," said the leader of the Knight Sabers cooly.  
  
"You haven't need my services in a while."  
  
"What do you offer us now?"  
  
"First, sixty of my best troops, four light armored cars, and myself."  
  
The two hardsuited leaders looked at one another. Leon cut in. "There's few people outside of the AD Police or the Self-Defense Forces that can handle themselves like Skeeter's people, and most of them are working for GENOM and the other Megacorps."  
  
"Indeed?" Knight One looked at Skeeter again. "I'm not sure what your people can do against Boomers and the defenses we believe Gulf and Bradley have in place."  
  
"You'd be surprised what we can do without the tin suits."  
  
"What else are you brining to the table?" asked Leon.  
  
"Enough solid intelligence of Gulf and Bradley's defenses to plan this strike. My people now know that security setup almost as well as Ozu himself."  
  
"How recent?" asked Knight One.  
  
"I'm receiving updates every ten minutes."  
  
"I don't know...."  
  
"I know Skeeter," said Leon quickly. "If you don't include him on this, he'll go ahead and strike on his own. It's better to coordinate with him and save a whole lot of headaches later."  
  
"He's right," said the leader of the Knight Sabers. "With his people,  
we can expand our options."  
  
"In what way?" asked Knight One. "Unarmored humans can't go up against Boomers and armored security guards."  
  
"True. Unless. . . ." said White Saber. She glanced at Skeeter. "Does you vengeance have to be against the Gulf and Bradley - Japan headquarters complex itself?"  
  
"No," replied the giant. "It is high on my list, though."  
  
"Would you object if you and your troops created a diversion to attract attention and forces away from our target?"  
  
"If it was the right target."  
  
Knight One looked at his Knight Saber counterpart. "You have a plan," he said  
  
"A glimmer of one," White Saber admitted. "We need to discuss it, and quickly."  
  
Knight One looked back at Skeeter. "Are you willing to discuss this with us?"  
  
Skeeter gave them a cold smile. "I think I can make an allowance."  
  
"Do you trust them?" asked Chika, looking at her leader.  
  
"For now."  
  
"That's fair enough," said Knight One. "I think you, your second here, and Leon should be enough brainpower to pull together a plan."  
  
"Me?" asked Leon. "Why?"  
  
Jeena slapped him on the back. "You're an experienced combat veteran, you know this city, and Skeeter trusts you. Any more stupid questions?"  
  
"Not as the present time."  
  
"Good," said Knight One. "Mr Karns, bring your people in. We have an attack to plan."  
  
**********  



	35. Chapter 35

===================================================  
  
**Chapter 35  
  
Gulf and Bradley World Headquarters  
Houston, Texas USA  
Saturday, December, 22 2035  
3:21pm (MST)  
  
** Martha Desalvo was listed in the Gulf and Bradley corporate structure as "Executive Vice-president in charge of Internal Affairs," a polite and long-winded way of saying she was G &B's Chief assassin/spy/security specialist. Tall and lean, she still looked like a high fashion model she had once been. But most models didn't have a Master's degree in psychology, advanced Dans ranks in three different Martial Arts, rated as 'expert marksman' in both pistol and sniper rifle, and the nickname 'The Ice Witch" for her cold beauty and ruthlessness.  
  
She had been the first of Janson Bradley's new management changes in the wake of Carson Bradley's death, her predecessor ousted for being incompetent in failing to protect the chairman. Unlike Carson, Janson valued people who produced results over sycophants, and Desalvo had reached her current position by simply being better then anyone else in her division. As such, she was one of the few people the present G&B chairman trusted completely.  
  
She was staring out one of the large windows that made up two of her office walls. It was three days before Christmas, but the crowd  
of last minute shoppers walking eighty-five stories were far from her mind. Instead, her thoughts and gaze, were focused on the horizon, as if she could actually see the cause of her current thoughts - MegaToyko.  
  
_I told Janson that those two would be trouble_ , she thought to herself. _If I was related to those two, I would have eliminated them a long time ago just for breathing precious air!_ Her opinion about Janson's nephew and niece was well known to the chairman, but his decision had been final: Carlton Bradley had to show he had the ability to be the next head of G &B, and the Japan branch needed someone to run it effectively in the shadow of GENOM.  
  
At least, that is what Janson Bradley said publicly. Privately, he didn't want either one of them in a position to undermined him directly. Janson Bradley was a hard man - weak people didn't rise to head large conglomerates like Gulf and Bradley or GENOM, but he tempered his hardness with a streak of practicality that had served him well in the wake of his brother's death. It was this combination that had gotten Janson into the position of Chairman and had kept him there.  
  
The same blend of traits had made him decide to send his nephew and niece to Mega-Tokyo. Janson had never liked the Giant Boomer  
project that Carson had negotiated with GENOM. After the prototype's destruction under mysterious circumstances and a top G&B employee jailed, Janson had pulled Gulf and Bradley out of the project, citing incompetence on GENOM's part. The resulting war of words had been short but bitter, convincing Janson he had done the right thing to begin with.  
  
But right after that, both Carlton and Cora Bradley had started pushing for more say in how the corporation was being run. They began question their Uncle on business decisions, policies, and personnel determinations, including Desalvo's appointment to her current position. As together they own somewhat more then twenty percent of the outstanding shares in Gulf and Bradley, the twins couldn't be ignored or shunted aside.  
  
When the position of G&B - Japan opened up, Janson saw a chance to sidetrack them for the foreseeable future. He knew that the pair  
harbored an intense hatred for Chairman Quincy and GENOM and had a tendency to act out their aggressions. At worst, the twins would try  
and extract revenge against GENOM, and ending up paying the price for it, either with their lives or diminished support inside the company. Should they somehow succeed, GENOM would be weaken and Gulf and Bradley would be in a position to profit from it.  
  
_You're playing a dangerous game with two unstable people_ , Desalvo thought to herself. As a precaution, she'd placed several of her own people inside G&B to keep an eye on the twins. The few reports she did received were disturbing -- the twins were up to something, but she had no idea what. She had her suspicions, but she needed more proof first.  
  
The intercom beeped. She turned away from the window and tapped a button on the compact unit. "Yes?"  
  
"There's a Mr. Wells on the phone from Mega-Tokyo," said her secretary.  
  
Desalvo frowned. Wells was one of her independent contacts, people who had no direct connection with Gulf and Bradley. She used them when she wanted information that wasn't filtered by internal biases. This one was one of the few she had in Mega-Tokyo, but he was her best source. She glanced at her clock. _It must be important if he's calling now_ , she thought.  
  
"Put him through."  
  
The vidphone flickered to life and she recognized the blond man in the rumpled suit. /I'm glad I caught you in,/ he said.  
  
"Spare the pleasantries," she said curtly. "What do you have?"  
  
/We've got a corpwar kicking up into high gear here, and the twins are in the thick of it,/ replied Wells grimly. /They've managed to piss off not only GENOM, but MALCORP./  
  
"What the hell did they do to piss off MALCORP?"  
  
/How about kidnaping Greg Mallory's Goddaughter and dragging her to Mega-Tokyo for starters?/  
  
"Shit," growled Desalvo. "What else?"  
  
/The twins were the one behind the Thor attack last night./  
  
"WHAT?" Desalvo yelled. Those assholes! "Why in the hell did they do such a thing?"  
  
/They did it in an attempt to elimanate both the Black Knights and the Knight Sabers, and they bungled it badly./  
  
A long string of very unlady-like curse came rolling off of Desalvo's tongue. That disaster had been played up big in the news, with parts of the government pointing fingers at other parts. Of all the asinine things those two idiots could have done! "Do you have proof?"  
  
/When the time comes./  
  
"You're not just yanking my chain?"  
  
Wells shook his head. /My source is very good and very trustworthy. If they say the Bradley twins were behind the Thor attack, then they were behind it./  
  
"The Black Knights are involved?"  
  
Wells nodded this time. /It looks like they've struck an alliance with the Knight Sabers to take on Gulf and Bradley - Japan./  
  
A flash of pain across her temples signaled the start of a strong headache. "Any more good news?"  
  
/All the signs point to a full-out assault on somebody very shortly, maybe even within the hour./  
  
Damn, damn, DAMN! "All right, try and get me anything else you can. I'm coming over there and see what the hell is going on myself."  
  
/Things are spinning out of control very quickly here. I'll do what I can, but I 'm not sure how much I can find./  
  
"Do what you can. We'll talk again shortly." She severed the connection and stalked out of the office. As she passed her secretary, she said, "Call Mr. Bradley and tell him I need to see him at once."  
  
"Yes ma'am."  
  
"Then call Mr. Hyde and tell him I want three -- no, FOUR security teams geared up and ready to fly within the hour. Also tell him we're going to Mega-Tokyo, and it's a Magenta-code situation advisory."  
  
The secretary paled slightly. Before she could respond again, Desalvo was out of the office.  
  
**********  
  
**Gulf and Bradley Petrochemical Refinery Alpha Star One  
District 7, MegaTokyo, Japan  
Sunday, December 23, 2035  
4:19am  
  
** The refinery sat on a spit of land in Tokyo Bay, sticking out into the body of water like a think metal finger. Covering the area of a fair size town in it's own right, it was a mass of storage tanks and pipes, steel and concrete, towers and pits, all manned by Boomers with human supervision.  
  
It's official name was Alpha Star One, but most of the human that worked there called it simply "Alpha". To Gulf and Bradley, it was a jewel in the corporate crown, a show piece to the world. As a money-maker, it had few equals. Easily the largest refinery complex in the world, it was processing a full fifteen percent of the Pacific Rim's yearly gas requirement from the Indonesian Oil fields. As such, the refinery ran twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, fifty-two weeks a year in order to keep up with the demand.  
  
Because of it's size and importance, security here was tight.The Boomer workers were all GBGP-21s, programed with a dual worker/security program package, with special protocols to prevent a stray blast from turning the plant into an inferno. These in turn were backed by modified GBS-18s flying squads that could reach any part of the complex in less then two minutes. There was no central security command center, but several sector command bunkers linked together by buried and protected land lines and disguised as pumping stations or maintenance sheds.  
  
Surrounding the refinery's land perimeter was a series of fences and wires designed to slow or cripple any attempt to breech the security there. On the bay side, the sea floor was covered with sensors and command-activated mines, designed to detect and eliminate a seaborne attempt. The GBS-18s handled any attempt to attack the place from the air.  
  
Security was considered to be excellent for a installation this size. Several attempts by groups of eco-terrorists and political extremists to interfere with Alpha's production had been stopped cold by the Boomers and the other defensive methods, several so successfully that Gulf and Bradley didn't bother to inform the authorities of the attacks. Those few terrorists that survived were never heard from again. As an added precaution, one of the first things Carlton Bradley had done when he'd taken over the Japan Branch of Gulf and Bradley was to increased security even more. Now, the place was an armed fortress, ready to take anything thrown at it.  
  
It wasn't good enough.  
  
The first inkling that something was about to happened occurred when several of the sensors located on the bottom of Tokyo Bay ceased transmission. After the fifth one failed in as many minutes, The command bunker responsible for that sector dispatched a pair if GBS-18s to scout the area from the air, and alerted the other command bunkers to the possibility of another attack. Boomers moved to their staging areas, while the humans began shifting as much of the highly flammable liquids away from the sectors nearest the possible threat.  
  
From the time the GBS-18s had been dispatched, to the time they reached the area where the failed sensors were located, two minutes has elapsed. During that time, several more sensors had broken down, leaving gaps in the sensor fields large enough to allow human-sized objects through undetected. Deciding this was something more then an accidental failure, the entire refinery went to maximum alert, and another quartet of GBS-18s were sent out to reinforced the first two.  
  
The first two GBS-18s hovered ten meters over the still, dark waters of Tokyo Bay, scanning for evidence of life forms not natural to the environment. After several seconds, they scanners were tracking several large masses rapidly moving towards the refinery's docks. Immediately, the pair sent a message to the nearest command bunker, confirming the alert, and putting the number of intruders at a dozen, possibly Boomers. The reply was swift and immediate; gather more data.  
  
In response, the GBS-18s dropped towards the water, stopping when they were less then five meters from the black surface. The sensors began gathering more data, looking for something that would identify these intruders. As the Boomer's CPUs started running matches against the targets listed in their memory banks, the sensor detected sudden movement from the masses below them. Several smaller objects leapt from the intruders' masses and raced toward the surface. Reacting on basic programming, both GBS-18s increased thrust in an attempt to gain height. They never made it.  
  
Six small missiles burst from the dark surface and began to home on the pair. The GBS-18s split up, twisting and moving as erratically as they could while still trying to gain more air. The missiles also split up, three targeting each GBS-18 and gaining quickly on them. The Boomers turned and tried to shoot down the missiles with their own weapons, each sending all the data they had gathered to the command bunker in a final show of programmed loyalty. The missiles then struck, turning the two Boomers into a blossom of flame and sound that was visible and audible for kilometers.  
  
Acting on the destroyed Boomers data, the quartet of GBS-18s sent to reinforce them were redirected to intercept and harass the intruders. At the docks, two dozen GBGP-21s moved into position, tasked with keeping the intruders on the docks and away from the storage tanks. Alerts were sent to G &B Headquarters and the AD Police, while other command bunkers kept one eye on the upcoming battle, the other on their own sectors.  
  
And still the intruders came on. By now, everyone at the refinery, human and Boomer alike, realized the attackers weren't humans, but Boomers. That meant that the Boomers were probably on a 'suicide' mission, intending to take out as much of the refinery as they could before they were destroyed.  
  
The reaction from the human overseers was immediate and thorough. Commands that over-rode the 'minimal damage' protocols were transmitted from the command bunker responsible for the docks to the waiting Boomers. Close behind, a complex battle plan was downloaded into the Boomer's on-board memory in the blink of an eye. In response, the boomers ripped out of their human disguises, deploying mouth lasers and other weapons and they moved into final defensive positions. Other bunkers watched their sectors carefully, waiting for another attack to appear.  
  
Just as the last of the defenders reached their programmed positions, the water near the docks began to froth. With loud splashes, a dozen missile bursted out of the water and angled for the shoreline and docks. They were followed three seconds later by another dozen missiles, then another salvo. The defenders replied with laser and shell, trying to eliminate the incoming missile swarm. A third fell to the intense fire, but the remaining missiles crashed into the docks and ships docked there. Explosions rocked the docks as the warheads went off, sending gouts of fire and debris in every direction. Several of the 21s were destroyed in the raging sea of explosions, while the airborne 18s were forced to fall back to regroup and refocus.  
  
As the defending Boomers moved to recover, several forms burst out of dark water. Their jets firing just enough to get them to the docks, the attacking boomers landed and continued their attack. The air was suddenly filled with missiles, laser beams, and bullets. Boomers were destroyed on both sides as the ongoing fires turned the area into a Hell-like landscape. Above the battle, defending GBS-18s floated like hideous parities of angels, looking for good shots against the intruders.  
  
Finally having a solid visual to rely on, the 21s and 18s quickly identified the attackers as BU-17 Hellbenders combat Boomers -- cyberdroids designed for a seaborne attack like this. Boomers that shouldn't be anyway near the city....  
  
About half of the attacking force was down now, either destroyed, or too badly damaged to continue. The losses among the defenders wasn't nearly as grim, but still serious. Sensing victory, the surviving defenders surged forward, looking to end the battle quickly.  
  
Unfortunately, the attack at the docks wasn't the real thing, but a diversion....  
  
All the GBS-18s that had been acting as air cover over the battle suddenly exploded in a shower of sparks and shattered metal. Several dark shapes flew through the dying discharges, sending a hail of laser fire into the 21s below. Stunned by the sudden change in the fight, the defense began to crumble. The unknown aero-boomers continued their strafing runs as the surviving Hellbenders retreated to the relative safety of the water  
  
At the same time, across the refinery, a dozen dark shadows moved quickly and silently among the storage tanks. The few sentry boomers left in the area had been quickly and ruthless dispatched, as had the humans who'd been manning the security bunker for the sector. Now, each and every storage tank was being tagged with an explosive device designed to destroy the pumps regulating the oil transference. Once detonated, the tanks would be filled of valuable oil, but unreachable until the pumps were replaced. It wasn't as damaging as destroying the tanks outright, but even GENOM realized that igniting several trillion kiloliters of highly flammable crude and refined gas all at once wasn't a good idea.  
  
Once the last of the Hellbenders had retreated into the darkness of Tokyo Bay, the aero-boomers broke off their attack and roared off into the night sky. At an unseen signal, the sabotaging boomers stopped and moved swiftly and silently back to the refinery's fence line. In minutes, they, too, had faded into the darkness surrounding Alpha One.  
  
Across the city, other attacks, both smaller in scope and aim, struck at Gulf and Bradley-owned businesses. Some succeeded completely, while others did not. But the results all had the same effect: Gulf and Bradley was losing money, data and people, items that every corporation needed to stay alive in the brutal landscape of business. It wasn't a mortal blow -- Gulf and Bradley was too large and widespread to collapse under an assault of one of its subsidiaries. But the attacks heralded the entry of GENOM into the dispute, turning what was once a shadow war into possibly something more ominous and deadly....  
  
************  
  
AD Police Headquarters  
MegaTokyo, Japan  
Sunday, December 23, 2035  
4:09am  
  
** Daley looked at the men and women grouped around the table. They all looked as tired as he felt. The people around the table were a mix of investigating detectives and detachment commanders, officers who were going to be caught in the middle of what could be a brutal Corpwar. Jeena's revelations had hit him hard in the stomach. Boomer rampages were bad enough, but out and out warfare?  
  
The redheaded inspector's eyes wonder around the table. Julian Weiss was asleep, his head cradled in his arms. Mandy Thesan was leaning back in her chair glaring at anyone who bothered to look at her. Most of the others around the table were half dozing, despite the triple strength coffee forced upon them when they walked in the door. With the exception of the chief, who never could be found anywhere near the headquarters building after five PM, and two detachment commanders, who were supervising their units in the clean-up of a Boomer rampage in a condominium complex, the room held the ADP senior front-line commanders.  
  
Ko looked at him from the other end of the table. The newest ADP detective was slouched over the table, his coffee cup half full in front of him. "How reliable is this Jeena?" he asked.  
  
"She's ex-ADP and Leon's ex-partner," replied Daley. "If he trusts her, so do I."  
  
"So what do we do besides sit here on our butts?" asked Thesan bluntly.  
  
"I suppose we could try and arrest the leadership of GENOM, Gulf and Bradley - Japan, and MALCORP," replied Ko. "That is, if we want to be unemployed in a hurry."  
  
"That's assumes you can find them in time," muttered Thesan. "Or that arresting them would stop it."  
  
"Does anyone have any other suggestions?" asked Daley sharply.  
  
Weiss stirred. "What can we do?" he asked, his voice slightly slurred from sleep. "We don't have the people or the equipment to stop them. And if we do try to stop them, we'll get massacred."  
  
"And if we don't, how many civilians are going to get caught in the crossfire?" asked Thesan.  
  
"So what would be different from what we're doing now?" said Weiss quietly.  
  
"Enough," said Daley before Thesan could reply. "We're screwed no matter what we o, so we're going to try and keep it to a minimum. Which one of the three corps have the weakest defenses?"  
  
"MALCORP," replied Ko. "Even with the security robots, they can't match either GENOM or Gulf and Bradley's firepower."  
  
"But they don't have a lot here to defend," said Vance, one of the other Detachment commanders.  
  
"Vance's right," said Thesan. "Unless they've imported some outside firepower, they can't go onto the offence."  
  
Daley stayed silent, his thoughts drifting back to his conversation with Jeena at MALCORP's pharmaceutical research center....  
  
_* * *  
  
_ _"All right," said Jeena, once they were alone. "I'll make this short and sweet. MALCORP is here to get back a kidnaped girl. Gulf and Bradley have her. GENOM is sniffing around the edge, and if they smell blood, they'll jump in with both feet."  
  
"What's so important about this girl?' Daley had asked.  
  
"She's has information that could make the ADP's job more of a nightmare then it is now. Remember those CU-5T from a couple of nights ago? The ones that appeared to have force shields?"  
  
"You mean...."  
  
Jeena nodded, her expression grim. "If you think rampaging Boomers are bad now, wait until models equipped with this technology go berserk. You won't have a snowball's chance of Hell of stopping them."  
  
"Why the hell does G &B want the technology?"  
  
"Not the entire corporation, though if it fell into their hands, they won't be complaining. The best we can figure is that it's a rouge operation. The CEO of G&B-Japan, one Carlton Bradley, is out for Quincy's head, and wants this technology to give him an edge against GENOM."  
  
Daley let some irony into his tone. "And MALCORP's out to get this girl simply out of the goodness of their hearts."  
  
Jeena frowned in a way that made her look more menacing. "The girl in question is my boss' goddaughter."  
  
"You're serious?'  
  
"Very." There was a frostiness in the tall woman's tone that chilled Daley. "That what this attack was about." She motioned to the wreckage around them. "It was Carlton and Cora Bradley's way of saying to my boss, 'back off'."  
  
"You boss isn't going to listen, is he?"  
  
"Not a chance in hell. The war's already started. Last night's light show on the Coastal Highway was the opening salvo. This here was an escalation, an upping of the ante."  
  
"Shit," growled Daley. "Which side was responsible for the Thor strike?"  
  
"Has to be the G&B people, but you'll never get it to stand up in a court of Law."  
  
"So what is the ADP suppose to do?"  
  
"You want my advice? Keep everyone out of the way, because the only thing you'll be able to do is fill body bags. It's not worth it to get people killed over, Daley."  
  
_ _The redheaded Inspector sighed. "I can't do that, Jeena. The ADP has been dealt a crap hand for years, but we can't ignore this for very long."  
  
"Look, you get the ADP caught up in this, and there may not be enough of a force left after the dust settles. You'll be outgunned, out-manned, outspent, and probably outmaneuvered. You simply don't have the resources the Megacorps have."  
  
"Tell me something I don't know," snarled Daley. "But like it or not, we're in this game."  
  
"A word of advice, then. Make G &B your main target. MALCORP doesn't have enough presence here to have much influence. And if GENOM realizes that you're not interfering with their actions, they'll not bother you. Have you met with the American team investigating last night's disaster?"  
  
"A General Wolfe. He is not a happy camper."  
  
"I don't doubt it. I suggest you pass along what I've told you about Gulf and Bradley's involvement with the Thor strike. If nothing else, it'll give Bradley something else to worry about. Leave the rest to us. MALCORP isn't looking for an all-out fight, but we're not going to back down over this."  
  
Daley pinched the bridge of his nose in a gesture of irritation. "Damn it, this was once a simple job. When did it go all to hell?"  
  
"I don't know," replied Jeena, her expression grim. "I use to ask that question myself, but gave up after several years of thinking about it. You should do the same."  
  
"How's Leon doing?"  
  
_ _Jeena smiled. "He's slugging right along with us. He's fine now, but I don't think he'll last long after this is all said and done. I hope you've found a way to get him back"  
  
"I told the Chief that Leon's working undercover to try and stop this corpwar."  
  
"Believable, but from what I've heard of this new chief, you could have told him you were Quincy, and he'd believe you."  
  
Daley glanced around. "I think we've talked long enough. Ko maybe looking for me, and I don't want to disillusion him too early in his ADP career."  
  
Jeena's smile got wider. "You think you can spare him for...say a half hour? I romise to be gentle."  
  
"Maybe later, assuming he doesn't mind."  
  
"I'll hold you to that."  
  
"Tell Leon when you see him that I'll take him out to dinner after all this."  
  
"He isn't your type."  
  
Daley sighed. "I can still dream, can't I?" he said in a light tone.  
  
* * *  
  
_ The opening of the conference room's door brought Daley out of his haze of memories. One of the female office staffers was standing there, looking ill at ease.  
  
"What is it?" growled Thesan.  
  
"We-we got a report of a Boomer attack at the Gulf and Bradley Petrochemical refinery Alpha Star One," the girl said hurriedly.  
  
"Oh shit," hissed Thesan.  
  
Daley looked at Weiss and Thesan. "Both of you take your detachments and head out now. Ko, wake up Lars there and tell him his detachment is now on five-minute standby with the others. I want a flight of Firebees to scout out the area around the refinery complex, but avoid any combat."  
  
"What about the fire department?" asked Weiss. "We may be forced to give them cover if there's still an active Boomer presence."  
  
"Find out what's going on first, then use your best judgement. The Firemen don't want to tangle with Boomers anymore then you do."  
  
"What about you and me?" asked Ko.  
  
Daley failed to stifle a yawn. "You and me are going to visit Gulf and Bradley-Japan Headquarters and start asking questions."  
  
The younger man's jaw dropped. "At this time of the morning?"  
  
The red-hair Inspector gave him a tired smile. "Then, they won't be expecting us, will they?"  
  
************  
  
  
  
  
**  



	36. Chapter 36

========================================================= ==  
  
 **Chapter 36  
**  
Gulf and Bradley - Japan Headquarters  
Sunday, December 23, 2035  
4:35am  
  
"WHAT?"  
  
Ozu wasn't the type of man to flinch, but he made an exception this time. They were in Bradley's office and neither man looked rested or happy. The tension in the room was unmistakable, having shot up at the security man's news.  
  
Carlton Bradley was white with anger and his eyes burned with an intense fire. After several seconds, he said in a still, cold voice. "How bad is the damage at the refinery?"  
  
The security man shook his head. "We don't know. Things are too fucked up right this second to even guess."  
  
"What went wrong?' asked Cora, her voice low and hard. She was sitting on the sofa, watching the two men face off against each other over Carlton's desk. "Security was suppose to be tight, damn it!"  
  
Ozu looked at her. "Against human, or a small number of rogue Boomers, yes. But this was a deliberate, planned strike using military Boomers working in concert with each other."  
  
"What about the other locations?" hissed Carlton. "How bad have they been hit?"  
  
"Those reports range from minor damage to complete loss of the building and contents. The reports are scattered and several of the places are still under attack. Should we send out reinforcements from out security here?"  
  
"No," said Carlton, his voice cold and still. "That's what these attacks are designed to do -- dilute our defenses here, then strike where were too weak to stop them."  
  
"Who's behind this?" Cora snarled. "MALCORP?"  
  
"GEMON." Ozu let the word hang in the air before he continued. "There was an incident at the GLAS complex about two and a half hours ago. Several Boomers went on a rampage, destroying one of the towers. At least eighty are dead, over a hundred injured and several dozen missing."  
  
"So?" snapped Cora.  
  
"One of the missing is Mr. Azamizu."  
  
Carlton's fist slammed down onto the desk. "Damn it! That bastard Quincy knows --he KNOWS!"  
  
"And he'll be coming after us," said Cora, her expression one of fury.  
  
"What do we do now?" asked Ozu.  
  
"Get out to Alpha Star One and take control," said Carson. " Use one of the helicopters - I want you there ASAP and I want a  
preliminary report by seven o'clock."  
  
"Right," replied the security man. "I'm on my way."  
  
After the security man darted out, Carson turned to look at Cora. "Get ready to move the girl."  
  
Cora frowned. "Doctor Kyso said the move could kill her."  
  
"I don't care. Quincy's coming and I'm not going to leave her dangling for him to pluck from us."  
  
"All right. Where are we going?"  
  
"We have a small research lab on an island about three hundred kilometers to the southwest of here. We'll move the girl and our operations there for the time being."  
  
Cora rose from the sofa. "We should be ready to move in fifteen minutes."  
  
"Fine," snapped Carlton. "Keep the security detail to a minium. If we take too many, Quincy might get suspicious. Also, make sure the Boomers are operating under Zeta protocols."  
  
"Is that wise? Those protocols can't tell the difference between our men and the enemy. We could loose all of them!"  
  
Carlton straightened. "The longer Quincy is focused on this fight, the better chance we have of getting away. Besides, he'll spend time wondering why we had suicidal Boomers guarding an empty nest."  
  
"I don't like running," said Cora coldly.  
  
"It's not running, it's a 'strategic retreat'."  
  
"It's still running."  
  
Carlton shook his head. "Once we get situated, we'll launch our own attack against GENOM."  
  
"What about Mclaren and his team? If GENOM gets a hold of them...."  
  
"I'll make sure that loose end is taken care of. Their necessity to this operation is almost complete."  
  
"Pity we don't have time to do the job right," said Cora, almost wistfully. "I would have love to hear that bastard scream and plead for his life."  
  
"Get going," said Carlton sternly. "We're running out of time."  
  
 ************  
**  
Near Gulf and Bradley - Japan Headquarters  
Sunday, December 23, 2035  
4:43am  
  
The tractor-trailer was ten blocks from the Gulf and Bradley headquarters building, parked in an empty lot. The few early morning denizens of the district gave the unusual sight a once over, but move on hurriedly at the trio of men carrying machine pistols who seemed to be guarding the vehicle.  
  
Inside, a small command center had been built that took up the first third of the trailer. Several techs, dressed in black jumpsuits, sat at consoles, tasked with coordinating a multi-pronged attack against Gulf and Bradley. Around a table in the center of the trailer, a final conference was being held. There were fifteen people there, seven in hardsuits, the rest in black jumpsuits. All were armed in one form or another, and there was a grim purpose in the air.  
  
"Any objections?' asked Knight One.  
  
Leon shook his head. He was dressed in a black jumpsuit over which a combat harness had been put over. He cradled a nasty-looking rifle in his arms. "What about the twins?' he asked. "Are they considered targets?"  
  
Knight One shook his head. "As much as I want to pay those two back for their actions, those two dead would be more trouble then alive. The last thing MALCORP needs is a feud with Gulf and Bradley."  
  
Sylia looked at Linna and Nene. "Are you ready?" she asked them over their private channel. As an unspoken agreement, neither side had opened their visors in the presence of the other hardsuit group, so with the exception of Greg, Sylia had no idea who the other members of Red Team looked like. On the other hand, only Greg knew who she was, and he didn't know the identity of her teammates. A trust that was not exactly trust, an alliance that was only held together by a common enemy.  
  
Linna nodded, while Nene said. "I-I think so."  
  
"Nervous?"  
  
"Yes," replied the redhead. "We've never done anything this big before."  
  
"Or this openly against a target," added Linna.  
  
"I know," replied Sylia softly. "But it has to be done." She looked up at Knight One, who was in conference with a fellow Black Knight. He turned to look at her, and for a moment, she wondered what Greg was thinking about. She put that thought aside; Their relationship, if there was one, would have to wait.  
  
"All right," Knight One said. "The other teams are moving into place now. We move out in exactly six minutes." He looked at the White Saber. "Any last minute changes?"  
  
Sylia shook her head. "I'm just worried about the ADP getting involved."  
  
"I don't think that'll happen," said Leon. "There's a nasty Boomer incident at that monster refinery G&B has on the outskirts of the city. The preliminary reports don't make it look good. Also, several other Boomer incidents are occurring all over the city. The ADP is going to tied down for a while."  
  
"GENOM," said Sylia softly.  
  
"With the firepower that being reported, it can't be anyone else."  
  
"We're running out of time," said Knight One. "GENOM is probably readying an attack against the headquarters building right now."  
  
"Do we change anything?" asked Sylia.  
  
"It's too late to do so. We're just going to have to be faster and luckier then the other side."  
  
Sylia frowned, quickly reviewing the plan in her mind. There were four teams attacking three targets. Team Gawaine, half of Skeeter's troops, backed by a Black Knight team and a Rattlesnake, was now moving against a G&B Boomer research laboratory which MALCORP intelligence asserts had identified as a possible source of the modified Boomers.  
  
A warehouse complex several kilometers north of the lab was the target of Team Galahad, the other half of Skeeter's troops, another Black Knight team, and another Rattlesnake. The area was thought to be the ideal place to store deactivated Boomers, with enough evidence gleamed from Gulf and Bradley's computer system to make it a goal.  
  
The last two teams were getting ready to strike at the G&B headquarters building itself. Team Tristram, consisting of two Black Knight teams backed up by two Rattlesnakes, would make a frontal assult to attract and pin down as much of the defenders as possible. The last team, Team Lancelot, consisting of Knight One, Red Team, the Knight Sabers and a half dozen MALCORP troopers, would approach via the Knightwing, land on the roof and strike down from there. Because of the tight quarters on the KnightWing, the motoslaves were left behind at the warehouse base.  
  
Sylia was distracted by the sound of static, and a voice saying, //Galahad is in position.// coming from a speaker over her head.  
  
//Gawaine is in position,// the radio crackled several seconds later. Sylia recognized the voice as Skeeter's. The giant was leading the attack against the lab himself.  
  
//Tristram is ready,// said a third voice.  
  
Knight One nodded. "All units, this is Arthur," he said, his suit's radio patched into the common command frequency. "Operation Dragonslayer is green. I say again, Operation Dragonslayer is green. Good luck and good hunting. Arthur out." He looked at Sylia. "Time to board your craft."  
  
The white saber nodded. "Mackie," she said over the secure channel, "it's time."  
  
 ************  
**  
GENOM Tower  
Sunday, December 23, 2035  
4:45am  
  
Despite the earliness of the hour, Quincy still looked rested and relaxed. Madigan, on the other hand, felt tired and listless. She glanced at the clock on the chairman's desk, and suppressed a shudder at the time it displayed.  
  
"What is the latest on our attacks on Gulf And Bradley's assets?" the Chairman asked, his voice still strong and soft.  
  
Madigan glanced down at the report in front of her, willing herself to remember the facts printed there. "The early reports indicate that the corporation has suffered damage and losses of at least one hundred and fifty million US dollars," she said, trying to sound businesslike.  
  
Quincy raised an eyebrow. "That much?"  
  
"Yes sir. At least three of the target buildings are complete losses, and four others are going to need major repair work before they can be used again. Also, the damage to Alpha Star One will keep the refinery off-line for at least two weeks."  
  
"Ah." Quincy leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers so the index fingers touched his chin. "Is the boomers tasked with attacking the Gulf and Bradley-Japan headquarters ready to be activated?"  
  
"Yes sir."  
  
"Then do so. It's time to show the Bradley twins why their obsession with GENOM isn't healthy."  
  
"Yes Sir." Madigan turn and walked away from the Chairman.  
  
Before she reached the door, the Chairman said, "Wait."  
  
She turned and looked at him "Sir?"  
  
"Do we have a picture of this Janie VanDell?"  
  
"I believe we do sir."  
  
Despite the darkness of the room, Madigan saw her boss smile. "Download the girl's description into the memory of the attacking Boomers. She is to be given a grade 2 priority -- 'live capture only'"  
  
"You believe Mr. Mallory?"  
  
"Not completely."  
  
"Then why -"  
  
"I find it hard to believe that the only reason Mr. Mallory is concerned about this girl purely because she is her goddaughter. Let's see what he's willing to trade for her safe return."  
  
"Is that wise, Sir?" Madigan asked carefully. "While MALCORP does not have a lot of assets here, they are not without resources elsewhere."  
  
"True. But MALCORP's influence in several markets has been rising, and I'm curious to see how Mr. Mallory will react to the new situation."  
  
"I'm make the necessary arrangements."  
  
Quincy nodded. "What about Mr. Azamizu?"  
  
"The specialists feel that he won't last more then two day if they use Rabject-7, and doubt he'll be sane for half that time."  
  
"Who said anything about allowing Mr. Azamizu to continue after his betrayal?" The Chairman leaned forward. "Order the specialists to use Rabject-7. There are a few 'side-effects' that need to be worked out before we can ship the drug to out clients. Tell then they can considered this a 'field test', and I expect a detail report as soon as possible. We need to know all the details of his operation, and now."  
  
"Understood, Sir. What about the body afterwards?"  
  
"I expect there will be work on the GLAS condominium damage starting in the next couple of days?"  
  
"One of our companies is already beginning the surveying."  
  
"There's a lot of unfortunates who are currently buried in the rubble, isn't there?"  
  
Madigan bowed. "I understand, sir."  
  
"Go." After Madigan had left the office, Quincy turned his chair to face the window. There were several placed in the city were he could see fire and smoke that vanished into the night air. He leaned back and watched in silence.  
  
**********  
  



	37. Chapter 37

=================================================  
  
 **=================================================  
Part 3 - Endgame  
=================================================  
  
  
Chapter 37  
  
Gulf and Bradley Biomechanical Research Institute  
District 5  
Sunday, December 23, 2035  
4:55am  
  
** Skeeter glanced at his watch. "Gawaine Six to all units," he said quietly into his transmitter, "Move out on my command. Rattler Four, we need a foot in the door. South side, near the parking lot."  
  
//Understood,// replied the gunship's pilot. //One doorknocker coming up in thirty seconds.//  
  
From the alleyway, the giant stared across the street at the large, multistory building that rose up into the night sky. The Gulf and Bradley Biomechanical Research Institute was an ugly mass of steel, concrete, and glass that reminded Skeeter of a overweight pyramid. It occupied a three block section of the city among the slowly decaying apartment buildings and office towers of the district, like a diamond on a pile of rags. A five meter tall white wall separated the Research Institute from the surrounding decay, with watchtowers in each corner of the rectangular boundary. Almost like a fairy-tale castle.  
  
 _That image is about to change_ , the Gang leader thought. He stepped back into the alley and adjusted the modified heavy machine gun slung across his back. He l ooked at his other members of the strike team waiting with him in the alleyway. Twenty-five of his people were going in with the Black Knight team, while the two armored cars, their crews, and a squad of snipers would stay outside and guard their backs. He looked over at Doc. "They still snoozing?"  
  
The weaponsmith looked up from a hand-held monitor. "What passes for defense patrols inside those walls has no conception that we're about to accost them," he said softly. "Their astonishment should be complete. Also, Rodent has communicated that his clansmen have severed the communications lines conveying out of the institute."  
  
"What about the jamming?"  
  
Doc gave him a look of suffering. "In position and arranged to commence on your utterance."  
  
"Are your people in place?"  
  
"Any vehicles that try to abscond from the complex will be eradicated."  
  
"Hey, Boss," said Hosokoawa, who was standing next to Doc. "What happens if the ADP show up? We've got enough on our plates without having to dance with them too."  
  
"If our luck holds we're be free and clear before those bums show up. If they or the N-police show up, we pull the plug and get the hell out. Disengage and run, clear?"  
  
The troops nodded. Doc smiled. "Mr. Phillips is presently fabricating preparations to dampen any hasty rejoinder of our actions by the public constabulary."  
  
Hosokoawa scowled as he tried to make sense of what Doc had said. Skeeter smiled slightly at Hosokoawa's expression. "Phillips is setting up some delaying obstacles just in case the Police do show up."  
  
"Oh."  
  
Skeeter held out a fist to Doc. "Well, good luck and good hunting, brother."  
  
The two friends slapped fists just as Rattler Four said, //Making my attack run now -- fifteen seconds. Still no reaction from the target's defenses.//  
  
Doc dashed down the alley, through the assembled strike team, heading towards the armored car at the far end. Skeeter watched him go, then turned and looked at the Research Institute with it's gleaming white walls and glittering glass.  
  
//Birds away!//  
  
"Everyone down!" shouted Skeeter, and the entire team dropped onto the damp concrete, patches of snow, and cold mud. Without being order to, they covered their heads and flattened themselves as much as possible.  
  
The first two missiles came screaming in from about Skeeter's head, sounding like banshees as the passed over the alley and slammed into the perimeter wall, taking a twenty meter stretch of the barrier and the corner watchtower apart in the blink of an eye. As the sound of the explosion tore through the night sky, two more missiles crashed into the wall, ripping another breach in the wall.  
  
//Knock, knock. Rattler Four to Gawaine Six, the door is open. Oh boy, is it ever open!//  
  
Skeeter surged to his feet. As he did so, he saw the Black Knight team dropping into the street and start charging for the first hole. He stepped out into the street and unslung his machine gun. "Squads One, Three, and Five -- take the far breach! Squads Two and Four with me!"  
  
In a matter of seconds, the street was filled with armed warriors surging for the destroyed walls.  
  
 ************  
  
G&B Research lab G-46  
MegaTokyo, Japan  
Sunday December 23, 2035  
4:57am  
  
** Mclaren felt someone shake him roughly out of a sound sleep. "What the hell is it?" he shouted. "Stop shaking me!"  
  
"We got problems," replied Jiro Kurokawa. "Explosion up at ground level."  
  
Mclaren opened an eye to glare at him. "So?"  
  
"The phones are dead, as are all communication links to the outside. Also, all access ways to the surface have been locked down. We're trapped."  
  
Mclaren sat up. "Are you sure?" Kurokawa nodded.  
  
"Damm it," Mclaren growled. "The first decent night's sleep I've gotten in six months, ruined because of some idiot set off an explosion! Where are the boomer guards? Their link with the fellows upstairs should still work."  
  
"We haven't seen any."  
  
"Then go find one! Where's the most secure place on this floor?"  
  
"Storage room in the northwest corner."  
  
"Start getting everyone organized, just in case it's something more then an accident. Any chance to maybe reviving a boomer quickly to give us a hand?"  
  
Kurokawa shook his head. "It'll take three hours minimum, and that's with cutting all safety measures."  
  
Mclaren ran his hand through his hair. "How many techs do we have down here?"  
  
"Close to a dozen."  
  
"Right. See if we can jury-rig a couple of the spare Boomer weapons, in case we need them to break out of here or to fend off an attack."  
  
A distant explosion occurred for somewhere over their heads.Kurokawa looked up. "That sounded closer then the first one," he said, looking worried.  
  
Mclaren felt his blood crow cold. "I think we are under attack."  
  
"But who?"  
  
"How the hell should I know?" snapped Mclaren. "But if it isn't related to those two damm fool idiot Bradleys, then I'll become a monk."  
  
Another explosion echoed thorough the building above them. Kurokawa heading for the door. "I don't know about you becoming a monk, my friend, but I think you might want to start practicing your praying. We may need it."  
  
**********  
  
 **ARNPTSE Storage Compound  
District 9  
Sunday, December 23, 2035  
4:57am  
  
** "Galahad Six to all teams -- status check."  
  
Chika Kamayawa waited for her squad leaders to check in. As she did so, she stared out over the compound before her through a broken window. She had chosen an abandon factory across the street from the main entrance of the warehousing complex for her observation post. The factory was a gutted eyesore, like so much of the area, but still sound enough for her purposes.  
  
The storage area was near the docks, brightly lit and fairly secured. It was mostly just a large, level place where consignments that were in transit were stored in large, sheet-iron structures until the were loaded onto the next ship going to the shipment's destination. Around the boundary, a pair of thick, chain mail fences, four meters apart and topped with barb wire, prevented all but the most determined attempts. A pair of squat, three story-tall office buildings, dubbed Chalice One and Chalice Two in the plan, occupied the front two corners of the land.  
  
As an wholly owned subsidiary of Gulf and Bradley, ARNPTSE handled mostly G&B cargos. But the intelligence reports indicated that this was probably where the twins stored the Boomers they were stockpiling for their attack on GENOM. Chika's mission was locate all Boomer stockpiles and destroy them. Unlike her leader's attack, hers was suppose to be more finesse then brute strength. But Chika was a great believer in Murphy's Law, and expected trouble.  
  
//Galahad Red -- In place.// That was the attached Black Knight team, positioned in the wasteland to the south of the warehouses. They were making the recon run, their hardsuit's sensor systems superior to anything Doc could come up with.  
  
//Galahad Blue -- ready.// Two squads of her people, carrying C-9 and RDXI plastique explosives charges, stationed with the Knights. Once the Knights had pinpointed a storage location, Blue would move in and plant the charges while the Knights guarded them.  
  
//Galahad Green -- ready.// Three more squads of her people and two of the homegrown armored cars, located in the factory below her. They were functioning as both security and a reserve force, in case things went to slime.  
  
//Galahad Black in position.// Chika couldn't see the gunship in the night sky, but she knew it was there, ready to supply an offensive punch if needed. Until then it would circle and watch out for any areal threat to the operation.  
  
//Nightlight will be ready in one -- wait, Nightlight is green.// That was one of her people stationed outside the nearest electrical relay station to the storage yard. As soon as she gave the word, several blocks of plastique would turn the main relay board into electrical scraps, hopefully shutting down the lights and electrical alarms long enough for her team to do the job.  
  
"Anyone see the guard boomers?' Chika asked, peering through a pair of binoculars.  
  
//Negative, Six,// said the leader of the Black Knight team. //Do we wait?//  
  
Chika thought for a moment. "Negative. We go in one. Green, be ready to move on my say-so."  
  
//We're close, Six.//  
  
//Blue to Six. Two-boomer patrol, at two-thirty, four hundred meters, near the crane.//  
  
The raven-haired women swung her binoculars over to where the report mentioned. She saw the pair almost at once, moving slowly and carefully on all four feet. "I've got them," she said. "They look like standard K-9 types. Can you avoid them, Red?"  
  
//It shouldn't be too hard, Six,// replied the Knight's leader. //I'm more concerned abut the ones I don't see.//  
  
"Red, is there any way you can tap into the storage system for this place to see if we can narrow down the area?"  
  
//Negative Six. The system is limited to the offices in the main buildings, plus these shipments are very likely not in the system anyway. We're going to have to do this the hard way.//  
  
"We've wasted enough time. Nightlight, go."  
  
There were several seconds of delay, then the sound of a distant explosion reached her ears. The light in the compound flickered, then went out, plunging the entire area into darkness.  
  
"Six to Red - go"  
  
//Already on the way.//  
  
Chika picked up night vision goggles lying on the windowsill in front of her and put them on. The view was eerie, a mix of black and green that outlined all objects in the goggle's view with varying success. A flicker of movement in the corner of the goggle made her shift her head slightly to focus on it. The flicker became a figure in a hardsuit, moving carefully along the roof spine of a warehouse. Two more hardsuited figures, on other warehouse roofs, came into view  
  
"Six to Red," she said calmly. "I have you spotted."  
  
//Copy, Six. And sign of Boomers?//  
  
Chika scanned the rest of what she could see of the compound. "Negative, Red." She saw movement near one of the office buildings. "Hold it, I have unknown movement near Chalice Two."  
  
Not waiting for any acknowledgment, she watched the man walked away from the building and peer around with a flashlight providing him with a weak light to see by. Someone, probably one of the human security guards, had come out to take a look around. After several seconds, the guard turned and walked back to the nearest office building, speaking to something in his hand as he did so.  
  
"The guards are wondering what's going on."  
  
//I don't doubt it,// replied the Knight's leader. //Give then another three minutes to try and call someone before they start thinking of a possible attack.//  
  
//Red two to Galahad Six,//cut in a new voice. // I'm picking up a possible concentration of deactivated boomers below me.//  
  
"Where's your location?" asked Chika, staring back out at the figures on the rooftops.  
  
//Building Alpha Four.// One of the trio stuck it's arm into the air and moved it back and forth. //Permission to investigate?//  
  
"Granted. Red team, cover her."  
  
//Understood.// The other two figures leapt to the target's roof and knelt next to the third figure. A brief flash of light from the middle Knight was the only signal that an opening had been cut into the roof of the building. One by one, the hardsuited team slipped inside.  
  
It was silent for ten seconds, then twenty. Chika continued to look at the ware-house for any activity, but nothing happened. It was another minute before something happened.  
  
//Green Six to Galahad Six,// came the voice of Suyuri, Galahad Green's team leader, from the floor below. //We've got multiple bad guys coming out of the Chalices.//  
  
Chika directed her attention back to the office buildings just in time to see another half dozen armed security men come charging out of the main doors of each building, joining another dozen already out in the night. They were armed with rifles and machine guns, not standard issue weapons for the time and place. "What the hell...."  
  
//The Knights might have set off an alarm.//  
  
More security types came running out of the office buildings. There was upwards of thirty now, in a complex that wasn't suppose to have more then six human guards at any time. "Where did these goons come from?" Chika growled.  
  
//I don't know, Six,// replied Suyuri, as the Gulf and Bradley men started to spread out among the warehouses. //Somebody screwed up on the intel for this one.//  
  
Just then, several pops were heard, coming from the warehouses. Those were followed by several small explosions in rapid succession. Several of the guards still in sight slowed, then starting running hard towards the warehouse where the sounds were coming from.  
  
"Damm!" Chika snarled. "Galahad Six to Red Six. Unwelcome company on the way. Can you abort?"  
  
There were several seconds of static, then Red Six snarled, //Negative! We are under attack from several C-class-type Boomers. We cannot withdraw right now!//  
  
 _It's a fucking trap!_ Her mind screamed at her. "Are the Boomers extra security?"  
  
//Negative!// Red Six shouted. A burst of static scrambled part of his next transmission. //...be setting some charges of their own!//  
  
Chika frowned. "Say again!"  
  
//The Boomers are setting demo charges of their own! They're planning to blow this place sky-high!//  
  
 _What the...GENOM!_ The gang leader's mind raced furiously. She couldn't leave the Black Knight in trouble. Too many problems would occur if she turned tail and ran, the least of which would be Skeeter's anger. Which meant having to commit to an attack. But how, where? The answer came almost as fast as the question.  
  
"Galahad Six to all Galahad teams!" she shouted into her radio as she starting running for the stairs. "Orders as follow: Blue team is to move up and support Red. Use the demo charges if you have to, but Red needs the support ASAP! Green team, We're hitting the front gate and draw off the security goons. Black team, cover Green! All teams, EXECUTE NOW!"  
  
She hit the top of the stairs and started down, taking the steps three at a time. By the time she'd cleared the last step, the two armored cars were already clear of the building and charging for the warehouse complex's outer fence. Chika raced after them, her orders sharp and clear as she directed the improvised attack  
  
The screams and battle cries of over a dozen people were mixing with deep throated roar of engines and the solid 'thud' of a heavy machine gun. At Chika's command, several of the gang members stopped long enough to arm and throw satchel charges at the fence. The roar and exploding light tore through the night air, tearing several large holes in the outer fence, but it didn't slow the charge any. A pair of security men staggered out of the smoke and darkness. They opened fire at the attackers, but were quickly cut down by return fire. A pair of K-9 Boomers suffered the same fate as they tried to follow their programming.  
  
A black shape roared out of the night sky and fired several rockets at a warehouse closest to the office buildings. For a split second after the rockets slammed through the concrete walls and detonated, the walls bulged as if to try and contain the explosion. The effort failed and the entire building exploded in a ball of light and flame. The Rattlesnake swung around and held position over the attacking force, firing missiles and mini-guns at anything moving in the darkness near the office building.  
  
Several more satchel charges eliminated the inner fence as an obstacle and the attackers, led by the armored cars, stormed through and into the compound. The machine guns in the armored cars began to rake the office buildings with streams of lead, shattering windows and wreaking havoc on anything in their path.  
  
"Secure the buildings!" Chika shouted, then in radio, "Red Team, Blue team, Status?"  
  
A muffled thud of an explosion answered her first. //We're up to our asses in Boomer parts,// said the Knight's team leader.  
  
"Can you pull back towards the main gate?"  
  
//We can sure as Hell try. Blue team should meet up with us in about a minute. We'll move then.//  
  
"We're keep the goon squad and pet Boomers busy for as long as  
we can. Don't be late."  
  
//Wouldn't think of it, Six. I --"//  
  
A series of explosions ripped through several of the far warehouses, sending large fireballs of smoke and fire into the night air. Chika and most of the assault squad staggered as the ground shook and a fast moving wall of air flew by them, sounding like an express train. "What the fire of Hell is that?" she shouted, her own voice distant and weak.  
  
//Somebody must have set of some charges around the flammable materials bunker!// someone shouted back.  
  
"Who?"  
  
//It must be those damm Boomers!//  
  
"Shit," Chika growled. "Six to Black. Can you see anything?"  
  
//Only that the far end of the place looks like Dante's Inferno.// The pilot's tone was cold and brisk. //At lest five warehouses are on fire and it's spreading rapidly.//  
  
"Any Boomers in site?"  
  
//Negative. Do you want me to make a low pass?//  
  
"No!" Chika shouted. "Between the fires and the Boomers, it's too great a risk. Stay clear and be ready to make strafing runs if I need them."  
  
//Understood Six. Black is standing by.//  
  
//Green Six to Six. Chalice one and two are secured. Do you want us to press on?//  
  
Chika looked at the flames that reached into the night sky. "Negative, Green. Have your people hold here. We're holding the door open only long enough for Red and Blue to dive through."  
  
//Understood Six. We're holding.//  
  
Tearing her attention away from the glowing sky, Chika dashed towards the nearest office building. As she ran, she wondered how the  
other parts of the operation were doing....  
  
**********  
  
 **Above Gulf and Bradley - Japan Headquarters  
Sunday, December 23, 2035  
5:05am  
  
** The KnightWing was packed with people and supplies, so much so that Sylia was forced to stand just inside the cockpit. Both Priss and Mackie were staying in the cockpit, Priss in her back-up hardsuit, while Mackie was wearing a flight helmet with the visor up. He glanced back at his sister. "Four minutes," he said softly.  
  
Sylia nodded, then looked back into the cargo area. There was Nene, Linna, Greg Mallory and his team, five of MALCORP's black ops people, and Leon. Everyone was making last-second check of their equipment.  
  
The leader of the Knight Sabers looked at the pod at the far end of the cabin. Cryotechnology wasn't an area she had much familiarity in, but she knew enough about the basics to understand the purpose of the device and why it was coming along with them.  
  
The idea of using Cryotechnology to place humans into suspended animation wasn't a new concept. The theories themselves were sound, but no practical systems were yet in place. MALCORP, a leader in the field, was the closest to the actuality. The pod, designed to transport critically injured people to advance medical facilities over a great distance, was less then eighteen months from going into production. The pod was Janie's one chance to get out of the building alive.  
  
"Are you all right?" asked Greg on their private channel. She looked over at him, but the visor hid his expression.  
  
She motioned with her head to the pod. "I'm worried about that. Are you sure that's the only way?"  
  
"If you have another way, I'm all ears."  
  
"A bit late for that," she said pointedly.  
  
"I'm not too happy about using it either," said Greg. "But my people have sworn up and down that it'll work, and I believe them." His tone changed slightly. "I have to."  
  
Sylia looked at the ugly rifle Red Four was making final adjustments to. "What is that weapon your EW member is carrying?"  
  
"EMP rifle," replied Knight One. "Shoots an armor-piercing shell that scrambles a Boomer's internal circuits. Red Four still has his EW capability, but he's geared up for Boomer hunting tonight."  
  
"An interesting concept," the White Saber conceded. "Any chance of you sharing the design with me after this?"  
  
She could hear the smile in his voice. "I think I can see myself clear to do so."  
  
"Two minutes," said Mackie over the loudspeaker. "No sign of the diversionary attack yet."  
  
"How long can we hold?" asked Greg, his voice all business now.  
  
"No more then five minutes," replied Sylia, her voice also efficient. "With the extra passengers and cargo, I want at least ten minutes of fuel in reserve.  
  
"Right." He turned to one of his team. Sylia didn't hear the conversation, as it was on the Knight's private channel. After several seconds, the second Knight nodded in response to something Greg had said. Knight One looked back at Sylia. "Five minutes it is."  
  
Sylia nodded. All they could do is wait.  
  
 ************  
  
Gulf and Bradley - Japan Headquarters  
Sunday, December 23, 2035  
5:03am  
  
** Cora came running into Carlton's office, her expression a mix of shock and anger. "We're under attack again," she said.  
  
Carlton looked up at her. "Where?"  
  
"The Biomechanical Research Institute. They hit the place about five minutes ago. The reports are sketchy, all land lines are down, and radio communications being jammed."  
  
The chairman of Gulf and Bradley stood up. "Is it GENOM?" he snarled.  
  
Cora's face harden. "MALCORP."  
  
Carlton strode around the desk. "Is the girl ready to move?"  
  
"She is, but Kyso thinks she has only a twenty percent chance of making it to the island alive."  
  
"In that case, Doctor Kyso have a twenty percent chance of reaching the island. Make sure she knows that."  
  
Cora's smile was chilling. "I already told her as much. There's a helicopter waiting for us on the pad."  
  
"Everything else in place?" asked Carlton, picking up a briefcase off the desk with one hand and a large semi-automatic pistol with the other.  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Good." He smiled at his sister. "We're not beaten yet, merely... delayed. Get the girl and I'll meet you at the helicopter."  
  
 ************  
  
Outside Gulf and Bradley - Japan Headquarters  
Sunday, December 23, 2035  
5:03am  
  
** Dailey watched as the large building that housed Gulf and Bradley's Japan headquarters grew even larger through the windshield. While it wasn't anywhere near the size and imposing presence of GENOM Tower, it was still a structure designed to impress the visitor.  
  
Dailey wasn't impressed. Rather, he was tired, irritated with a headache and a sour stomach, and in no mood for any grand gestures.  
  
"What makes you think the Bradleys will be here?" Ko asked as he turned into the building's driveway.  
  
"Where the hell else are they going to be?" Dailey asked. "They live in the damm -" His sentence was cut short as he saw the group of armed men clustered around the building's front doors. If the rifles and machine guns weren't enough to send the message that somebody was nervous, the way they pointed their weapons at the unmarked police car make that point clear.  
  
Ko saw them too. "How do we play this?"  
  
Before Dailey could answer, a low rumbling started. Several of the guards started looking around. One of the pointed into the night sky, just as a spread of missiles came out of the night and slammed into the Gulf and Bradley headquarters building.  
  
Several explosions rocked the front of the building, turning night into day. Men and rubble went flying and sheets of flame rolled out what use to be the lobby. Ko slammed on the breaks and sent the car into a skid, as chunks of rock and metal bounced off the vehicle with sufficient force to dent and crack the windshield and hood. The car stopped short of the inferno.  
  
Get us out of here!" Dailey shouted, all trace of his mood washed away in a sea of adrenalin. Ko slammed the transmission into reverse, wheels skidding as the car shot away from the wreckage. Not until the car had reached a 'safe' distance from the explosions did he slam on the breaks and stop the car.  
  
Eyes wide, he shouted, "What the hell was that?"  
  
"You're asking me?" countered Dailey.  
  
Something low and loud roared over their heads. Dailey managed to see the lean outline of a helicopter gunship as it came in for another pass. Another one joined it and they both turned and fired another volley of missiles into the maelstrom of fire and destruction. "Drive us back to the corner," he directed the younger man.  
  
Ko did so quickly, though not as fast as he done before. "Do we call for backup?"  
  
Several figures dropped out of the hovering helicopters and started up the stairs. Dailey peered hard at them, cursing under his breath as he saw they were wearing black hardsuits. A couple of the hardsuits were carrying what looked to be multi-barreled chain guns and short-muzzled cannons. "Against a couple of military-grade gunships and heavily armed hardsuits?" Dailey pointed to the helicopter as it opened fire on the lobby with several cannons in support of the hardsuits.  
  
"We have to do something!" Ko shouted back, his face pale and drawn  
  
Dailey exhaled slowly. I am getting too old for this shit! "You're right. Call Lars and get him and his people out here. Tell them to expect trouble and to bring any heavy stuff he can get his hands on."  
  
"Without the chief's permission?"  
  
"Fuck the chief's permission." He wanted a cigarette, but his mouth was too dry. "The city's going to hell and I'm getting sick and tired of it."  
  
Ko nodded and started speaking into the radio. Dailey watched the hardsuits move in against the Gulf and Bradley security force. Finally, he opened the door and got out. Ko leaned over and asked, "Wait a minute! Where are you going?"  
  
Dailey pulled out a stomach rifle from behind his seat. "I'm going to check out the situation."  
  
"Not without me you're not!" He spoke rapidly into the microphone, and shut off the radio and got out.  
  
Dailey gave him a tight smile. "Then grab your rifle and come on. Maybe we can figure out something for Lars to do when he gets here."  
  
Ko looked at the fire wreckage and bodies. "Assuming there's anything left."  
  
Dailey nodded. "Assuming there's anything left."  
  
 ************  
**  



	38. Chapter 38

===================================================  
  
 **Chapter 38  
**  
Gulf and Bradley - Japan Headquarters  
Sunday, December 23, 2035  
5:07am  
  
"Ninety seconds to landing."  
  
Everyone in the cargo section was up on their feet now, making the compartment seem smaller then before. Sylia stood near Nene and Linna, watching the others as they prepared for combat. Their holding pattern had lasted four minutes, four minutes that were uncomfortable and nerve-racking. But when the signal had been sent, Sylia felt relief flow through her. Whatever happened now, they were going in.  
  
"Listen up Knights and MALCORP troops!" Knight One said over the shared frequency. "We've just got word that Tristan has already started its attack. Figure we've got a window of about twenty minutes before the ADP show up. We get in, get the girl and get out -- no side trips."A few nods from the people listening made it clear they understood. "As for command issues," he continued, "Saber White and I are in joint command. If either one of us tells you to do something -- do it! Is that understood?" More heads nodded.  
  
"What about the G and B security troops?" asked of the MALCORP troopers.  
  
Knight One nodded in return. "We're not looking for body counts here, but if any human opponent push the issue, don't hesitate to take them down for good. Leave any Boomers for the hardsuit units. Your job is to carry and protect the pod."  
  
"How are we handling fire support?" asked a new voice. Sylia turned to see Priss in the cockpit doorway, visor down to conceal her identity from those who hadn't seen her at the warehouse. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Leon stiffen in surprise. He hadn't been anywhere near the cockpit since they had boarded, so this was the first time he'd realized that Priss was aboard.  
  
"We're going to keep it limited to keeping the roof clear of any opposition until we have Janie," replied Knight One. "After that, we'll play it by ear."  
  
"Fine by me." Priss conveyed the impression that she was looking right at Leon. "I can't say I'm thrill with being stuck up here, but I still wouldn't miss this even if you tied me down to a bed." Leon's face redden, but he didn't say anything as Priss turn and went back into the cockpit.  
  
"Knight One turned to Sylia. "Do you have anything to add?" he asked.  
  
Sylia shook her head. "You covered the important points."  
  
"Hey, guys!" Priss yelled over the intercom. "We've got activity on the roof!"  
  
"What sort of activity?" asked Sylia.  
  
"There's at least one helicopter warming up on the pad, with two more standing by, and -- oh shit!"  
  
"What?" snapped Sylia.  
  
"There's a group of people just came on the roof and are heading for the helicopter. Someone's being carried on a stretcher."  
  
"Any idea who it is?" cut in Knight One.  
  
"We're too far away. Should we take the chopper out?"  
  
Sylia and Greg looked at each other, waiting for the other to make the decision. Was that Janie on the stretcher?  
  
"How far is the group from the helicopter?" asked Sylia.  
  
Thirty meters or so. The cold isn't helping their footing any."  
  
Again, there was silence. Then, Greg said over the private channel. "I trust you to make the right choice."  
  
After a couple of heartbeats, Sylia said, "Negative."  
  
Mackie spoke. "I think I can buzz them before they can reach the helicopter."  
  
"Can you buzz the helicopter?"  
  
"I think so."  
  
"Then do it. Make one low, fast pass over the helicopter, then swing around and drop us off."  
  
"Right." Mackie managed to sound excited. "Everyone, strap in and hand on."  
  
Sylia barely had enough time to grab an overhead pipe before the Knight Wing dropped into a screeching dive.  
  
 ************  
**  
Roof Helicopter Pad Number Two  
Gulf and Bradley - Japan Headquarters  
Sunday, December 23, 2035  
5:08am  
  
Carlton Bradley's head snapped around as he head a howl about the cold breeze that swept across the rooftop and the random sound of the battle taking place below. Beside him, Cora was also looking into the night sky, startled by the sound. Three of the bodyguard team did likewise, as did the pair of Boomers assigned to guard Cara and Carlton. The rest of the party, which included Doctor Kyso and four people carrying the stretcher continued towards the waiting craft.  
  
The helicopter was only twenty-five meters away, it's rotor spinning in readiness for a quick take-off. The two boomer guarding the craft had also turned at the oncoming sound, which was becoming louder and more high-pitched. As soon as the boomers began to expand out of their human disguises, Carlton knew there was trouble.  
  
"Stop!" he screamed to the group over the increasing wail.  
  
The group stopped. Kyso turned to look at him, but before she could ask anything, one of the helicopter boomers fired a mouth laser at something descending out of the dark sky. A shadow in the air twisted away from the laser beams, then replied with a pair of it's own lasers. Both smashed into the concrete near the Boomers, sending chunks of masonry and dust into the air, forcing the defending cyberdroids to move, continuing to fire at the intruder.  
  
As it got closer, the shadow became an aircraft of some sort. It continued trading fire with the boomers, neither side able to hit the other. A flash of metal announced it was coming out of the night and into the lights surrounding the rooftop. With a shriek, it roared over the roof at less then ten meters, the shockwave it generated sufficient to stagger both boomers.  
  
"Down!" Carlton shouted, grabbing his sister and dragging her down with him. Everyone dropped to the cold ground, those hauling the stretcher a bit slower because of what they were carrying. Looking up, Carlton watched as their escape plan unraveled before their eyes.  
  
The craft continued across the roof, passing over the waiting helicopter as it did so from screaming up into the dark heavens. The helicopter pilot, surprised at the sudden appearance of the aircraft, had let his own airship drift up and off the landing pad. The resulting shockwave from the now disappearing aircraft smashed the helpless helicopter back onto the pad. Metal screeched, then snapped as the sudden impact proved too much for the landing wheels on the left side of the ship. Like a drunk, the helicopter sagged, then lurched to the left. The main rotor blades began to dig into the rooftop, sending out a hail of metal and concrete over a wide area. With a series of sharp cracks, the rotors shattered, adding larger chunks to the barrage.  
Several pieces struck one of the boomers, shredding it in the blink of an eye. With a loud crash, the helicopter landed on its side, shuddering as it engine still attempted to turn rotors that weren't there anymore.  
  
"Shit!" Cora screamed.  
  
"Back inside!" Carlton roared, waving his pistol in a gesture of command.  
  
"What do we do now?" Kyso wailed.  
  
Carlton pointed the gun at her face and cocked the hammer. "If you say another word," he hissed, "I will kill you here and now. Do I make myself clear?" The Doctor nodded, her face pale and her eyes never leaving the muzzle less then half a meter from her face.  
  
While her brother was staring down Kyso, Cora quickly recovered. "How long before we can get another copter ready?"  
  
"At least fifteen minutes," one of the bodyguards answered.  
  
"We don't have fifteen minutes." Carlton snapped. "If we stay out here, all we're doing is giving them targets. We'll have to use the subterranean escape route."  
  
"What about the fighting below?" asked Cora, an ugly-looking submachine gun in her hands. "We can't afford to get caught in that."  
  
"Then we better hurry." The CEO of G&B-Japan look at the surviving rooftop Boomer guard. "Come here!" he yelled at it.  
  
The boomer, one of Carlton personal protection units, lumbered over to him. "Yes sir?" it asked, it's voice tinny and distorted by the  
lack of disguise.  
  
"You are to come with us."  
  
"Yes, Sir."  
  
The group started back towards the doors they'd come out of just moments before. Carlton was the last one in, even as the wail of the approaching aircraft told him that more intruders were coming back....  
  
**********  
  
Less then two minutes after the first pass, Sylia hit the rooftop with an easy grace, Linna and Nene behind her and off to the side. Off to her left, the Black Knights and the MALCORP troopers also left from the back ramp of the KnightWing, fanning out into a defensive formation.  
  
"We're clear, Mackie," she told her brother over the Saber's private channel "Take her up."  
  
//We'll be standing by. Good luck, Sis.//  
  
//Nail some Boomers for me, Okay?// Priss added.  
  
With a high pitched whine, the Knight Wing rose straight up into the darkness.  
  
"Red Two and Three follow me," said Knight One. "We've got the point. Red Four, you're the trailer. I want the pod in the middle.  
  
"Red Saber, Green Saber, go with Red Four," Sylia directed. "I'm going up front."  
  
"Any questions?" asked Knight One. "Let's move out!"  
  
**********  
  
GENOM Tower  
Sunday, December 23, 2035  
5:10am  
  
The city security control room was buried deep inside GENOM Tower. Tasked with handling and monitoring certain 'operations' that occurred in the city, the room was usually very quiet at this time of the morning. But this morning was an exception.  
  
Every seat was filled, as every sector of the city was being observed for reports of battle in the shadow war that had just erupted. Police communications were monitored for the latest information, while others tracked skirmishes via satellite. Incident reports passed on to supervisors, who passed them on to the lavender-haired woman in charge. Everything was handled by experienced processionals.  
  
Madigan was overseeing the operation from the glass-enclosed office overlooking the monitoring room. The only other person in the room was Wilson, the shift supervisor. He stood by the heavy glass and watched the controlled chaos happening below. Madigan sat behind the desk and glanced over the reports.  
  
"We've having a hard time keeping up with everything that's happening right now," Wilson said. He was a big, solid-looking man with a lined face and graying hair. "There's several major battles in progress right this second, a couple of those running-type fights that we're trying to track."  
  
"So I see," replied Madigan. After she had left the Chairman's office, she had come straight here. She sipped her coffee, about the only thing that kept her awake to this point. "Continue to monitor everything."  
  
Wilson nodded. "Can I have your permission to downgrade surveillance of the Alpha Star aftermath?"  
  
"What for?"  
  
"Between the fires, the smoke, and the ADP presence, we're not picking up a lot of new data. Also, we need to expand our surveillance of these battles. I the reports are right, we have a three-sided battle in and around target Nightshade and we need to upgrade our response there."  
  
"What do we have monitoring the refinery?" asked Madigan.  
  
"Four BU-288 stealth recon-boomers and a couple of undercover BU-55s."  
  
"Redirect two of the BU-288s and one of the Bu-55s to wherever they're needed. The others are to continue observing, but if they are challenged, they are to evade and escape. There can not be a hint of GENOM involvement in the night's work. Understand?"  
  
"Yes Ma'am."  
  
"What's the status on the strike unit tasked to target Lilly?"  
  
Wilson glanced at a large screen on the far wall. "ETA is about one minute."  
  
"Has the updated orders been downloaded to the strike team?"  
  
"Yes Ma'am. We received acknowledgment from all the boomers four minutes ago."  
  
Madigan nodded. A beep from the phone next to her interrupted the conversation. Wilson strode over and picked up the handset. "Yes?...How bad?...one moment." He cupped his hand on the receiver. "Ma'am, it appears there's already a battle occurring at the Gulf and Bradley headquarters building. The strike team is picking up explosions and fires on their sensors."  
  
"It doesn't change anything," the lavender-haired woman replied. "Their orders stand. If anyone gets in their way, it's their own fault. This isn't a night for subtly."  
  
"I understand." He relayed the orders to the other end of the telephone and hung up. "It's going to get real ugly for the Gulf and Bradley people in a matter of moments."  
  
The woman shrugged. "Maybe next time, they'll think twice about challenging GENOM."  
  
 ************  
**  
  
  



	39. Chapter 39

===================================================================== ================  
  
 **Chapter 39  
  
Gulf and Bradley Biomechanical Research Institute  
Sunday, December 23, 2035  
5:03am  
  
** Skeeter stormed through the shattered glass doors, flanked by the Black Knight team and trailed by the rest of his strike team. Outside, an explosion signaled the destruction of the last watchtower.  
  
The foursome scanned the large, formally glass-enclosed, lobby. The floor was tile, a cold grey in color, that gave the lobby a coldness that was more imagined then real. It was sparsely furnished with several chairs clustered around a pair of low tables, leaving a lot of empty space between them and the banks of elevators at the far end of the entrance hall. A large circular desk sat in the center of the lobby, guarding the space between the waiting area and the elevators. A sterile example of the modern corporation.  
  
But now, it wasn't immaculate. There was glass everywhere, mostly from the windows and doors that hadn't held up under multiple shockwaves. A couple of bodies, dressed in guards uniforms laid near the desk, with no way of telling if they were alive or dead. A decapitated boomer stood between the doors and desk, intermittent sparks mixing with the rancid stench of boomer fluid. Some floor tiles were cracked, chipped, or scarred by fire and shrapnel. A pale of smoke hung in the air.  
  
Skeeter glanced behind him. "Third Squad, check the bodies! Second and Fifth Squads, let's get some defenses set up in case we have visitors! First and Fourth Squads, with me!" He glanced over at the leader of the Black Knight team. "Okay, White. Where do we go now?"  
  
The Knight, a multi-barrel minigun on his arm where the right hand would be, glanced over at the other two members of his team, and pointing to the front desk. "Three, startcracking. Two, cover her. I want locations and any other data about security."  
  
Just then, one set of elevator doors opened and three Boomers charged out, shedding their disguises as they rushed the intruders, firing their built-in weapons. Four steps into their attack, a wall of lead, lasers and steel slammed into them. One went staggering back, fluid and smoke erupting from its shattered body, before it collapsed in a heap. The next boomer lost most of its head to a minigun blast, then both its legs to a grenade blast, all in a split  
second.  
  
The third boomer made it halfway to the group of intruders when Skeeter stepped forward, yelled, "COVER!", then triggered the grenade launcher mounted under the barrel of his machine gun. The launcher coughed and a grenade the size of a soda can slammed into the charging Boomer's chest. A sheet of light engulfed the Boomer as the thermite grenade ignited, eating through the Cyberdroid's armor with ease. The Boomer staggered, then crumpled as another storm of projectiles smashed into it.  
  
There were several seconds of silence as the intruders waited for any other reaction. Finally the Black Knight leader said. "The numbers are running, let's move!"  
  
"You heard the man!" Skeeter shouted, breaking open the grenade launcher and placing a fresh shell into the chamber. "You've got your orders, only I now want First to double-check those Boomers to make sure they stay dead! Move!"  
  
The combatants scattered. While a group grabbed the tables and chairs and started dragging then towards the reception desk, several moved towards the downed Boomers, weapons ready to continue what they had started. Another group checked the bodies, then dragged them out of the way. No one said anything, and the only sounds were that of furniture being dragged, the crunching of glass under boots, and the crackling of the thermite as it continued to consume the Boomer and the floor under it.  
  
The Knights and Skeeter walked towards the desk, trailed by one of Skeeter's squads. As they passed the third Boomer, Skeeter looked at the charring remains and said. "Those weren't  
C-55s."  
  
"GBS-33's," said the Knight's leader. "G and B's version of the C-55's. Not as heavily armed, armored, strong, or adaptable as GENOM'S models, but they don't go rouge nor can they be used against Gulf and Bradley. They used them solely as internal security and don't sell them outside of the conglomerate."  
  
"How many do you think there are?"  
  
There could be upwards of a hundred on-site, though I doubt there's more then twenty active right now."  
  
By now, one of the Knights had reached the computer. A small compartment popped open in the hardsuit's left arm, and several plugs appeared. Moving with confidence, the Knight attached the plugs to the access port on the computer. "Cracking now," she said. "Shouldn't be more then twenty seconds."  
  
"Lobby secured!" shouted Second Squad's leader.  
  
"The Boomers are dead!" bellowed First Squad's leader.  
  
Skeeter tapped his mike "Gawain Six to Gawain Five, Status?"  
  
//Border is acquired,// replied Doc. //No one got out.//  
  
"Good. Objective TANGO is secured. Send in a car to bolster the rear guard and tell the snipers we're beginning phase two. Make sure their know their targets before they fire."  
  
//Understood. Gawain Five-Two is on her way. ETA, two minutes. Gawain Five out.//  
  
"Copy. Gawain Six out." Skeeter looked at the Black Knight leader. "With all the pandemonium going on tonight, we'll have about a thirty minute window to do the job."  
  
"We're in!" Said White Three excitedly.  
  
White One turned to look at his teammate. "Can you shut down the active boomer patrols?"  
  
"Negative, One, but I can block the access of anyone trying to activate more from storage."  
  
"Do it. How many active boomers are there right now?"  
  
Three scanned several screens before she answered. "There's forty-two listed as active, not including the four we've taken out. Twenty-three of them are on the floors above us. I figure it's going to take them about two minutes to get their electronic asses together and come after us."  
  
"What about the other fifteen?"  
  
"They're scattered through several levels below us."  
  
"How many sublevels?" asked Skeeter.  
  
"The systems lists seven, but I wouldn't be surprised if there's more."  
  
Skeeter looked at the hardsuited leader. "Which way do we go?"  
  
"Down," replied the Knight's leader. "That's where the labs we want are liable to be."  
  
"Right." The giant turned and shouted, "Fourth squad! I want those elevators immobilized now! Then I want those shafts wired for detonation! First Squad, cover them!" He scanned the lobby, nodding to himself as he saw the barriers his people had erected in the short amount of time. "Third Squad! Wire the stairwells for detonation! Second and Fifth squads, prepare to repel attackers!"  
  
The strike team scattered to their tasks. The Knights watched the actions in silence. "Your people are well trained," said White One quietly.  
  
"They had better be," growled Skeeter. "They've had enough practice at it."  
  
White One turned to White Three. "Can you degrade the Boomer's coordination links?"  
  
The EW Knight shook her head. "Not through the system. The best I can do is jam any coordination with units outside the links. It won't affect the boomers any, but it will make it impossible for a relief force to orchestrate an organized attack."  
  
"Do it." the Knight looked at the giant."How many squads do you want to keep up here?"  
  
"Two," Skeeter replied. "Second and Fifth squads. We'll take First, Third and Fourth with us. We have some short range EW equipment Doc cobbled together. It isn't fancy, but it will make the cyberdroids' job harder."  
  
"I suppose you have a way of getting us into those sublevels?"  
  
"Several, actually." the gang leader removed the magazine from his machine gun and replaced it with another. "Depending on what the enemy throws at us and how much damage you want to cause."  
  
"How long will it take to wire the shafts and stairwells?"  
  
"No more then two minutes. My people have had plenty of practice."  
  
"Then we move out in two minutes."  
  
"Good. I still have some aggression to burn off." With that, Skeeter walked away, shouting orders to his people.  
  
White Two watched the giant direct his people. "Remind me to never piss him off," he said over their team's channel.  
  
White One agreed silently.  
  
 ************  
  
Outside Gulf and Bradley - Japan Headquarters  
Sunday, December 23, 2035  
5:07am  
  
** Daley and Ko were hunched behind a low stone wall near the steps that use to lead to the lobby. The lobby, as well as most of the ground floor of the building, was now a disaster area. Shattered glass, twisted metal, and stone fragments littered the area. Several bodies, intact and otherwise, were interspersed among the wreckage. As far as the two police officers could see, all the bodies were either unarmored security men or boomers that had taken too much punishment. There was still the constant clatter of gunfire, changing in loudness and pitch as weapons were fired, reloaded and fired again. Here and there, a black hardsuit could be seen for a handful of seconds before the smoke and flame covered the image. A haze hung in the air, the smell of death and devastation a sickening crown to the hellstorm around them.  
  
The situation was worse then the two ADP detectives thought. They had dashed as close as they dared to the battleground, but they found themselves still about ten meters from the building's front doors. Going any farther into the building without heavy armor or arms would be suicide for both of them, but neither one was willing to just stay there.  
  
"The next time I get one of the great ideas," growled Daley, "You have standing orders to shoot me."  
  
"That's a tempting thought." Ko looked at his superior. "For the record, I now think we should have stayed with the car."  
  
"You should have thought about that before we decided to do this," replied Daley.  
  
"I know." Ko glanced up over the wall to see if they was anyone out in or around the lobby, then dropped down again. "Can we get into the building though the front door?"  
  
"I wouldn't want to take the chance. Neither side knows or even cares about us right now, and getting shot at by both sides isn't a good idea in my book."  
  
"We could try the parking garage."  
  
"And do what, flash our badges and hope the people on duty fall over themselves to help us?" asked Daley mildly. "Right now, we're screwed. The best we can hope for is to get out of this alive. See if you can raise Lars over the radio and tell him to expect trouble."  
  
Ko keyed the small mike on his radio. "Mu Six, this is Command Five. Can you hear me?" he listened for several seconds, then repeated the message. After the third attempt, he shook his head. "I can't get a hold of them, not with this much interference in the air."  
  
"Right. We can't stay here and we can't just go home, as much as that idea appeals to me. That's means we're going have to get out of the way and fast."  
  
"We're pulling back?"  
  
"Hell, yes, we're pulling back. Somebody's got to warn Lars what him and his people are going to walk into, and we're it."  
  
"How do you want to do this?"  
  
Daley glanced up over the wall, then ducked down again. "I'll cover you while you drop back to the car," he said in a half-whisper. "Once you get there, you can cover me. Fair enough?"  
  
"I don't know," replied Ko. "Maybe you should go first, and I'll cover you."  
  
The Inspector shook his head. "We're here because I wanted us to be here. This is my fault we're in this. It's my job to get us out in one piece. Now, get going before I make it an order, OK?" The younger man didn't look any happier, but he nodded and adjusted his crouch so he could explode into a run with little warning, the stomach rifle clutched in his arms like a life preserver.  
  
"Now!" Daley said, jumping up form behind the wall, the gauss cannon ready to fire. He heard rather the saw Ko start his dash for the car, but his attention was focused on the surrounding warzone.  
  
A flash of movement off to his right snatched his attention. His head snapped around to look in that direction, his brain trying to match what his eyes had told them was there. Instead of being wrong, his eyes confirmed what his memory told him it was. "Oh shit," he breathed, forgetting everything else around him.  
  
The Boomer coming towards him was not a run-of-the-mill rogue Boomer. The average rampaging boomer was not armed with a 125mm anti-tank gun, ground-to-air and ground-to-ground missiles, grenade launcher and a 10mm minigun. No, the BU-12B Anti-Tank Boomer striding towards him was definitely not your average raging boomer.  
  
The war Cyberdroid was close enough for Daley to see it was painted in light tans, yellows and browns - clearly a desert camouflage of some sort. It moved with a slow, easy confidence born out by it's knowledge that it was the meanest SOB on the street by a long shot. Out of the corner of his vision, the ADP Inspector could see other Boomers flanking the Tank Killer. The BU-12 turned its head to survey the destruction around the G and B's lobby. After several seconds, the massive cannon swung toward the fiery entrance.  
  
Daley may have been surprised by the Boomer's appearance, but there was nothing wrong with his reflexes. Before he heard the 'poomf' of the cannon being fired, he'd dropped back behind the stone wall, rifle forgotten in the knowledge of what was coming. He wasn't disappointed.  
  
The resulting explosion tore the heart out of what remained of the lobby. A fireball the size of a small house lit up the night sky with flame and heat. Daley felt the pressure wave from the explosion pass over him, the wall shuddering as it did so. This model of Boomer was designed to kill tanks, and the steel and concrete of the building was neither strong enough, nor designed to, withstand a 125mm APDS round.  
  
As he cringed behind the doubtful safety of the stone wall, Daley know things had just gotten worse.  
  
Someone had just up the ante big time.  
  
Someone who wasn't going to give a damn about anyone who got in their way.  
  
Someone named GENOM.  
  
It was time to move. Still staying low, Daley grabbed the stomach rifle and started duck walking towards the far end of the wall. At the last moment, he remembered his radio and turned it on.  
  
// -are you?// he head Ko shouting. //Damn it Daley, answer me!//  
  
Daley stopped and keyed the mike. "Sorry about that."  
  
//Are you all right?//  
  
"No. Some guests showed up to crash the party."  
  
//I saw. What the hell is going on?//  
  
"Looks like Quincy dealt himself into this game, and he likes playing with a stacked deck that's in his favor. I only saw a couple of boomers. How many do you see?"  
  
//At least five, all combat types.//  
  
"Where are you?"  
  
//In an alley about thirty meters from the car. Only there's a pair of Boomers standing next to it, and I think that all that my rifle will do is just annoy them.//  
  
"Stay put. I'm betting these guys have been programmed to secure the perimeter, then destroy the G&B building."  
  
//You don't have to tell me twice. What about you?//  
  
Daley glanced around. There were several parked cars nearby, light from the fires behind Daley glittering in the windows He scooted forward between two of the cars and glanced out into the street. No one. He keyed the mike again. "I'm going to make a run for it," he said to Ko. "I'll contact you once I'm clear."  
  
//Good luck.//  
  
Daley released the talk button on his radio, glanced out into the street again, then started across the street, trying to combine speed with staying low. His destination was the black mouth of an alleyway directly across from him, separated by four lanes and a median strip lined with trees.  
  
He had just reached the median strip when he heard a whirling sound. Reacting on instinct, he threw himself onto his stomach just as the trees next to him were torn in pieces by a swarm of slugs. Splinters of wood, torn branches, and shredded leaves covered him as Daley tried to will himself into the short grass.  
  
After what seemed like a lifetime, but probably no more then ten seconds, the avalanche of minced trees stopped, as did the whirling sound. Moving slowly, Daley turned his head in the direction the he had heard the sound coming from. Through a small opening in the pile of brush, he saw another combat boomer standing maybe sixty meters away, the two large machine cannons that hung over its shoulders still pointed in his direction, wisps of smoke drifting from the muzzles. In the back of his mind, the boomer model and stats flashed up like an ghoulish reminder of his own mortality. _BU-12B air defense model . . . two 35mm rapid-fire cannons, rate of fire for each cannon - 540 rounds a minute. . . . if the SOB fires into this brush, I'm  
so screwed. . . .  
  
_ He froze as the boomer stood there for ten more seconds before it turned and started moving towards the fire-scorched building. Beyond it, Daley saw several other type of combat boomers advancing, ignoring the few steams of slugs fired at them by the defenders. Slowly, he reached for his radio and keyed the mike. "Ko, I'm going to be a while," he said softly, reaching for the stomach rifle.  
  
//Are you hit?//  
  
"No, but I don't want to give those things a target." He began to move carefully through the shattered limbs, trying to avoid the split wood and finger-length splinters that covered the grass. "If you can't get to the car, get to a phone and call headquarters. Tell Lars he has my direct orders to round up every single person he can get his hands on and get out here ASAP. I want everything and anything that's in the armory out here and ready to be used. Have all units currently out in the field to send anyone they can spare. I want a perimeter containment in place before we move in. And I wanted all done yesterday."  
  
//I'm on it.//  
  
"Good. I'll contact you as soon as possible. Daley out."  
  
It took Daley another minute to free himself from the foliage debris. The right sleeve of his coat was bloody from a splinter that has jabbed him in the forearm, and his stomach and chest was sore from moving across the uneven wood fragments. He ignored the sound of battle that were happening behind him -- the dominating crack of the tank-killer's gun, the tornado scream of the anti-aircraft boomers's cannons, and the higher-pitched snaps of lasers mixing with the sounds of explosions, people screaming, and the hungry crackling of the fires.  
  
 _My god_ , Daley thought, risking a look back at the battleground behind him. _Quincy must REALLY be pissed off at the Bradley twins!_ Finally free from his wooden prison, he crawled down the slight slope until he was sitting on the edge of the road, out of direct sight of the war behind him. Part of him screamed for a cigarette, but he overrode that idea with a wave of self-survival. His eyes drifted down to the stomach rifle, and he took the opportunity to look over the weapon for any clear signs of damage. After seeing nothing that would indicate the rifle was useless, he looked around.  
  
Across the street, a figure detached itself from the alley's shadows and moved toward Daley. The ADP Inspector pointed his rifle at it just as the figure moved into the illumination of a streetlamp. The person was wearing a hardsuit, burnished black with dark gold highlights. Instead of a right lower arm, a short barreled weapon of some sort was there, its muzzle pointed at Daley. As the figure got closer, Daley could see a small insignia on the hardsuit's right breast, that of a black horse's head on a gold shield.  
  
Five meters from the Inspector, the Black Knight raised the muzzle of his weapon so it pointed above Daley's head. A voice asked, "Are you planing to stay there all night Inspector, or are you going to follow me?"  
  
 ************  
  
** When Madigan was ordered to attack the headquarters building of Gulf and Bradley, there was no time for an elaborate, complicated plan. Instead, she just split the attacking force up into two groups and had them attack two of the building's entrances at the same time. With the exception of the VanDell girl, the orders were simple -- destroy anything that came across their paths.  
  
Each spearheaded by a single anti-tank model boomer, the attacking GENOM cyberdroids hit the already chaotic situation with all the power of a tidal wave. While the AT boomers would fire 125mm shells into the building, several of the AA boomers used their 35mm machine guns to rake the windows with storms of lead. As a precaution, the area of the building housing the infirmary was left alone. But between the fire and the continual impact of HE shells, the building was taking an intense pounding.  
  
Under this covering fire, several commando versions of the BU-12 dashed towards the building, occasionally firing their own weapons at targets of opportunity. The return fire was scattered and uncoordinated, as confusion and causalities had taken their toll. The last of the G&B boomers still able to defend the flaming remains of the lobby was torn apart by the firepower of a trio of 12Bs. As the boomer went down in a flaming wreck, the last catterings  
of the defenders retreated. The GENOM boomers moved in and secured the main entrance.  
  
At the south entrance, the resistance has heavier. Here, the security consisted of desperate G&B security teamed with security boomer running on Zeta protocols. The result was a sharp, intense firefight with neither side willing to give a centimeter. The GBS-33s security boomers were like madden Samurai defending their lord's castle from an invader, throwing themselves into battle with no concept of self-preservation. The human part of the defense  
fought almost as stubbornly, using rockets, rifles, or even chunks of concrete in the attempt to keep the battle boomers from reaching the building.  
  
But the GENOM boomer were designed for this type of combat, and step by step, the defenders were shoved back into the building. Shots, both large and small, ripped into the windows and stone, sending shards of both in every direction. New fires sprang to life and began to spread, adding to the maelstrom of anarchy that had descended on the area.  
  
When the last GBS-33 was torn apart by a 125mm shell, the last guardians ran for their lives. Leaving the AT and AA boomers to defend the entrance, the commando boomers moved into the building on a search and destroy mission. Their mission parameters were downloaded into their silicon brains, and the orders already clear in the RAM, with no room for mercy or guilt and no feeling for anyone who got in their way....  
  
 ************  
  
Gulf and Bradley - Japan Headquarters  
Sunday, December 23, 2035  
5:12am  
  
** Carlton Bradley was not happy.  
  
In fact, he was in a towering rage. "You cowards!" he shouted into the radio. "Stop running and start fighting, or I'll kill you myself!"  
  
Around him, the other members of the group were divided between the shouting match Carlton was having with a security man on the ground floor and looking uneasily at the walls as they rattled from explosions that seemed to be increasing by the minute. The only ones that looked unimpressed by the surrounding battle were the security boomers that occupied each end of the hallway they were in.  
  
In the center of the hallway, the VanDell girl laid on the stretcher, Doctor Kyso worrying over her with the intensity of someone who didn't want to die. Cora leaned against the wall, her expression partway between hate and hunger to kill something. The other members of the small group were scattered between the three boomers. None of them looked happy.  
  
They had reached the fiftieth floor, two floors below the helicopter pads, when the explosions had begun, causing an alarm among the group. Carlton had immediately grabbed his radio and started demanding to know what happened. It had taken him a minute to find someone who was coherent, and even then the news wasn't good.  
  
//We can't fight combat boomers!// the security man on the radio was shouting back, not really caring that he was yelling at his boss. //They're got at least two fucking anti-tank boomers out there, for god's sake! All our security boomers are destroyed, and I think all we've done to them is piss them off! We can't hold them!//  
  
"How many men do you have left?" Carlton demanded.  
  
//Six,// The security man replied, //and two of them are too badly wounded to fight.//  
  
Carlton's hand tightened on the radio until his knuckles were white. "Gather everyone you can find and cover the parking garage!" he snarled. "You are to hold at all cost! Do you understand? We're making our way there and will join you as soon as possible."  
  
//I understand.// The man didn't sound happy, but Carlton didn't give a damn.  
  
"Then do it!" Carlton turned off the radio and looked at his sister. She was cradling her machine gun like it was a child. "We release Mclaren's boomers now," he told her firmly.  
  
"Are you sure we should do that?" Cora asked. "They're also running under Zeta protocols."  
  
"We have no choice. Those spineless yellowbellies wouldn't hold out for long."  
  
"Then why did you tell them to hold the parking garage? We're not going there."  
  
"I know that and you know that," replied Carlton, pocketing the radio and pulling his pistol from his waistband. "But they don't know that and neither does anyone who intercepted the conversation. With a little luck, most of the enemy will head for the garage to try and block our 'escape.' Between that and the shielded boomers, we continue with the escape plan."  
  
"Right." Cora pulled out a bulky hand sized box, flicked open a small panel on the face of the box. "Boomers activated," she said cheerfully.  
  
"Good. We use the escape staircase. There's an access panel two floors below us."  
  
"I know the one."  
  
"I want you to take up the rear with a boomer. If anyone can't make it...." He left the rest unsaid.  
  
Cora nodded. "No one left behind alive to tell where we've gone. You can trust me, Brother."  
  
"Good." He glared at the others. "Get ready to move out! No stragglers or complainers, or I'll shoot you where you stand."  
  
Just then, the lights started flickering, a sure sign the power lines were taking a beating. "Move out now!" Carlton snapped, and started down the hall, his face an ugly mask of hate. He had to escape in order to continue his plans to kill Quincy, and no homicidal bucket of bolts was going to stop him....  
  
 ************  
  
** The combined Knight Sabers/Black Knight team met no resistance either on the way down the stairs or on the floor below the roof.  
  
Sylia crouched in the middle of the hallway, allowing her suit's sensors to sweep ahead of her for a possible ambush. Behind her, Nene and Red Four extended their own sensor suites beyond her own. Behind them, the rest of the team was strung out along the hallway, both Sabers and Black Knights watching for any other presence.  
  
"Floor's clear," said Red Four.  
  
"I agree," replied Nene.  
  
Just then the building shuddered as something struck it. "You were saying?" asked Leon in a tight voice.  
  
"We've got problems," said Knight One. "Tristram is reporting combat boomers are attacking the building."  
  
The building trembled again. The sound of heavy guns, muffled by the steel and concrete, was now audible. Knight One looked at the Saber's leader. "We're going to have to move faster then we thought."  
  
Sylia nodded. "How do you want to do this?"  
  
"I'll send Red team via the elevator shaft and drop three floor and start working their way up. The rest of us will start here and work our way down."  
  
"I have no problem with that." Sylia switched channels. "Priss, Mackie, what's your situation?"  
  
Mackie answered the question. //We're about two kilometers south of the target building right now, getting ready to swing around. Is there a problem?//  
  
"Possibly," Sylia replied. "We're getting reports of combat boomers are now attacking the target building."  
  
She heard Priss cursing in the background. Mackie said, //Understand. Do you want us to hold our position here?//  
  
"For now. We need you more for retrieval than fire support."  
  
//Understood. We'll stand by. KnightWing out.//  
  
During her short conversation with Mackie, Knight One had directed Red Team in the new plan of attack. The three Black Knights dashed past Sylia and Nene, heading towards the elevators. Greg nodded to Sylia. "We'll wait thirty seconds, then head for the stairs."  
  
"Fine." Sylia turned to the other members of her team. "Red Saber, you're with me. Green Saber, you're at the rear."  
  
"I'll stay with Green Saber," said Knight One. He turned to the MALCORP men. "Keep one hand free for weapons at all times, and expect trouble. If any Boomers appear, leave them to the hardsuits."  
  
Sylia started for the stairs. "Let's go."  
  
 ************  
  
** The building half a block down the street from the now fire shrouded Gulf and Bradley building was a office building scheduled for demolition sometime in the near future. Because of the poor condition of the building, the only security were a pair of old guard boomers who were too out of date to be anything more then a nuisance to any would be thief. Of course, there was nothing in the building worth stealing, so real security wasn't needed.  
  
It was here that Carlton had stored the shield equipped boomers. A mixed group of BU-12s and BU-55Cs, this group of twelve was Carlton ace card.  
  
And the ace card was now being played.  
  
The activation signal was received, and in the darkness of an internal room, eyes began to glow red as the boomers' CPUs began to process their uploaded orders....  
  
**********  
  
 **Outside Gulf and Bradley - Japan Headquarters  
Sunday, December 23, 2035  
5:14am  
  
** The hardsuited Knight led Daley through several alleyways to a van idling in an alley a block down and an empty lot away from the battle. From here, Daley could see most of the Gulf and Bradley building's southern entrance, as well as the boomers standing near it. He filed away the questions he had when he saw who was waiting for him.  
  
Jeena Malso was leaning against the side of the black van, looking amused as the ADP Inspector walked up to her. Wearing a black jumpsuit that hugged her figure well, she was primed for the possibility of combat with the binoculars, radio headset and gunbelt she was wearing. She said something into the headset, then nodded to the Knight beside Daley.  
  
"Fancy meeting you here," she remarked as the Knight left them.  
  
"What are you doing here?" The ADP Inspector asked her.  
  
"Besides saving your ass?" Jeena shrugged a shoulder. "The boss told me to come here and wait."  
  
"Wait for what?"  
  
Jeena gave him a level look. "He didn't say," she said insincerely.  
  
Daley sighed. "I'm not looking to arrest anyone right now. For one thing, these people outgun me slightly. Second, you're a friend, and I know you wouldn't be here if it wasn't for something important you believed in. And third, anything I could arrest you for would never seen the inside of a court, so why waste my time?"  
  
The tall woman raised an eyebrow. "You've gotten cynical in your old age."  
  
"I've always been cynical, it's just Leon's better at expressing the feelngs." He glanced over his shoulder in the direction of the battle. Speaking of which, where is Leon?"  
  
"He's busy right now. The less you know the better."  
  
Daley looked back at Jeena. "He's inside the Gulf and Bradley building, isn't he?"  
  
"Like I said, the less you know the better off you'll be if the shit hits the fan."  
  
"I've got news for it, it's hit and it's a major shit storm." The ADP officer jabbed a thumb in the direction of the gunfire. "But even I didn't think things would move so fast, or become so violent."  
  
The tall woman shrugged. "We got late-breaking information on the girl's whereabouts." She frowned. "Looks like GENOM did too."  
  
"Tell me about. Quincy's not pulling punches here. He's sent combat boomers to clean up this mess."  
  
"We know. We've been forced to pull our own people back."  
  
"Am I a prisoner?"  
  
Jeena gave Daley a look of disbelief. "We're the good guys, remember? We were just doing our civic duty getting you out of a dangerous situation."  
  
"What about my partner?"  
  
"The cute one? We've got someone retrieving him too. He should be here in a couple of minutes."  
  
"In that case, you don't mind if I try and call headquarters, do you?"  
  
Jeena handed Daley a cell phone. "Use mine. It should be able to punch through any interference."  
  
Two more explosions roared through the night sky from the direction of the G and B building. Suddenly, several more explosions blossomed into the sky from a building down the block. Before either observer could react, several figures stormed out of the detonations and started towards the smoke-hazed building.  
  
"What the hell?" Daley yelled.  
  
The GENOM combat boomers reacted as quickly as their programming allowed, which was very fast. Before the first of the new figures had cleared the fireballs completely, they were met by heavy machine gun fire and missiles from the now defending GENOM boomers. As the bullets bore in on their targets, there was sparks as they struck something in front of the boomers. The missiles had almost the same effect, exploding before they hit their targets. None of the new boomers went down in the barrage and were now returning fire, scoring hits on their enemy.  
  
"Goddamn!" Jeena had her binoculars up and watching the exchange of fire. "The shitstorm just went to typhoon strength," she said sharply, dropping the spyglass and turning her radio to transmit.  
  
"Are those shielded boomers?"  
  
"You got it! The Bradley's must have had them nearby!"  
  
With the speed that only a war-programmed boomer has, the GENOM boomers changed tactics. The AT boomer charged into firing position, flanked by a trio of the AA types. Several of the commando designed boomers moved towards the empty lot, firing at the attackers as they went in  
an attempt to outflank the new attackers.  
  
A 125mm shell slammed into an attacking Bradley 55C, the explosion slamming through the shield and boomer with conclusive force, turning the boomer into a flaming pile of debris in an instance. Another Bradley boomer's shield gave out under the combined firepower of six 35mm machine guns and literally disintegrated in the plague of lead. But the rest of the new attackers were continuing their charge, heedless of any losses they might take.  
  
Daley dialed a number on Jeena's cell phone, trying to ignoring the war behind him. Jeena watched the fire rolling into the sky. "You better tell your people to bring a lot of friends," she said quietly, "and a hell of a lot of firepower."  
  
 ************  
**  



	40. Chapter 40

=================================================  
  
 **Chapter 40  
**  
 **ARNPTSE Storage compound  
Sunday, December 23, 2035  
5:16am  
  
** "Shit, shit, shit...." Chika muttered under her breath. The entire situation had became a sheep screw, and getting worse by the moment.  
  
Her people had managed to secure both of the office buildings, but at the loss of several of their own. The building on her right had a large hole in its side where a machine gun had been set up by the unusually large guard force. Several satchel charges and a number of grenades hadn't work, killing three of her fighters in the process. It finally took a laser guided missile from the Rattlesnake to remove the machine gun from the fight, as well as the floor it had been on and the one above and below it for good measure. Because of that, Chika chose to make the left office building her command center while they waited for the rest of her team to escape the battle among the storehouses.  
  
The Black Knight team and the members of the two demolition squads attached to them were trying to skirt the raging battle, but it was difficult as they ended up in short, brutal firefights with the guard force, then the boomers, then sometimes both guards and boomers at the same time. They were moving as fast as they could, but it would be at least another ten minutes before they could work themselves clear.  
  
Chika peeked out a third story window in the direction of the warehouses. From the sounds of gunfire, screams and the occasional explosion that mixed with flashes of fire and tracer rounds, Chika knew the fight was far from over. But the bulk of the warehouses made tracking the firefight difficult at best. The radio conversations were short and sometimes cryptic as everyone was more concerned with staying alive then proper communications protocols.  
  
Suyuri dashed into the office. "Chika," he said, looking worried. He was a tall, thin man with a bald head, dark skin, and a roman nose. He'd been a mercenary in Africa before he'd settled down in MegaTokyo and was no novice to combat.  
  
"What?" She snapped back at him, her eyes never leaving the half-hidden battle.  
  
"We found something you should see."  
  
Chika turn to look at him. "What?" she repeated.  
  
"The reason why this place was swarming with guards."  
  
The raven haired woman scowled. Suyuri wasn't the type to exaggerate. "Fuko!" She yelled.  
  
A muscular woman whose Mohawk was somewhere between teal and green in color poked her head around the door frame. "Yeah?"  
  
"Keep an eye on the fight. I'm going with Suyuri."  
  
"Hokay, chief."  
  
After Fuko had taken her place at the window, Suyuri lead Chika down to the ground floor. He stopped near the bodies of a defender. "I had a couple of the boys pat these guys down for possible intelligence material when one of them noticed this." He reached down and yanked the dead man's shirt open.  
  
Chika took one look and said "Shit."  
  
The dead man's entire torso was elaborately tattooed, the pattern running around the and under the arms. The centerpiece of the body art was a coiled dragon running from his below his belt up to his collarbone. The combat leader recognized the symbolism of the tattooing, and realized her mission had just taken a turn for the worse.  
  
"How many have you found like this?" Chika snapped.  
  
"We've checked a dozen bodies so far, and almost all of them are like he is."  
  
"Shit."  
  
"The question is, 'whose boys are these?'"  
  
"They looking like Sleeping Dragon Yakuza." Chika replied. She motioned to the body art on the dead gangster. "The tattoo there is a common motif among their rank and file. The question is, why is a couple of dozen of Sato's people doing here?"  
  
"I can explain that." At his leader's questioning glance, Suyuri continued. "On a hunch, I had a squad check the basement, and found the reason why this place was guarded by Yakuza gunmen. If you'll follow me?" Suyuri lead Chika on a quick jog to a stairwell in the far corner of the building. They descended down two flights of half-lit stairs and entered through a door marked 'Basement'.  
  
As soon as the sharp tangy smell of chemicals hit her, Chika knew why the large guard force had been in place. Suyuri handed her a filter mask. She took the mask and put it on, holding her breath as she did so. Once the mask was in place, she looked around the room. "What the hell did I do to deserve this, Suyuri?"  
  
The room they were standing in was some sort of security room. A desk was set up next to the basement door, and a table was in one corner, the remains of a card game scattered across its surface. A gun rack hung on the far wall, still half filled with rifles. Several bodies were scattered around the room, all male, all Yakuza, and all dead.  
  
A door opened in the far wall, and a person Chika recognized as one of Suyuri's people stuck their head out. "We got the last locked room open," he announced, his voice muffled by the mask he wore. "You'd better come see this." Suyuri lead the way through the door and into the rest of the basement.  
  
The basement was a series of rooms, divided by cheap wooden walls and concrete floors. Each room was part of the process to make, package and ship illegal designer drugs. Some rooms were processing labs, while others were set up to weigh and package the valuable merchandise. Here and there, a body laid, some Yakuza while others wore lab coats and appeared to be the chemists that manufactured the drugs. From the signs of haste and unfinished packing, they must had still been working up to the time of the attack.  
  
Chika held her anger in check as they walked through the rooms, but it wasn't easy. She had seen an older sister overdose on a new designer drug fifteen years back and the image of a helpless, twitching remnant of what had been once a bright and lively girl seared Chika's soul. With the death of her last living relative, the barely teenage girl found herself shipped off to the city's orphanage, a place where boys and girls were warehoused until they were old enough to be released on their own.  
  
She's survived there, survived until Skeeter Karns had sensed that she was a kindred sprit and recruited her into the new organization he was forming. Her rise through the gang's ranks had been quick, but no one disputed her because she had done it on her own. She soon established a reputation as being as tough as any man under her command.  
  
One of the things that had drawn her to Karns was his absolute refusal to have anything to do with illegal drugs. To her, drug dealers were the low of the low, making money off people's weaknesses, and not giving a damn what happened if their 'product' was bad. Skeeter had laid down the law early in his rule: no one in the gang was allowed to deal or manufactured drugs, and woe to those from outside that tried moving drugs into Skeeter's territory. The Red Cobras had tried, and they had paid for their stupidity.  
  
"How long to wire this place to blow?" she snarled.  
  
Suyuri snorted. "It's more difficult making sure this place doesn't blow. Anyone who strikes a match down here isn't going to last long enough to realize he fucked up."  
  
"How long?" she repeated.  
  
"Half a dozen incendiaries among the chemicals in the storage rooms, say three minutes."  
  
"Do it."  
  
"Already underway."  
  
They reached a thick door that had been smashed open. A trio of bloodied Yakuza gunmen laid sprawled around the door, the result of a frag grenade at close range. The gang member that had come and gotten them was standing in the doorway, along with two other of Skeeter's troopers. One of the troopers, a broad-shouldered man by the name of Mongo pointed with his thumb inside the room. "It's clear," he said. "Ramon thought we should let you look and make a decision before we trashed the place." The trio stepped aside and let Chika and Suyuri past them.  
  
The room was smaller then the others they had passed through, but the contents were more valuable and useful then the drugs outside. Shelves ran along three of the walls, neatly stacked with sorted bundles of cash, grouped according to denomination. A table sat in the center of the room, with another small fortune in bills waiting to be counted, along with a pair of counting machines.  
  
Chika's mind whirled. This was an unexpected windfall, and her mind wrestled with the possibilities. The gang could use a haul like this, and the fact they were taking to from the Yakuza would make it all the sweeter. "How long to clean out the room?" she asked.  
  
"Ten minutes," Mongo replied. He motioned to a bag in the corner. "There's enough bags to take all the cash."  
  
Chika activated her radio. "Fuko, anything happening?"  
  
//Nope. Just more fireworks. The tin suit leader thinks they can get clear in another five minutes.//  
  
"Any signs of an attack on the office buildings?"  
  
//Nope. Sy and Fowler have been out planting some Claymores between us and the warehouses. They say it's quiet.//  
  
"Get them back in here and send down anyone you can spare for the moment."  
  
//What's up?//  
  
"We've walked into something big. I'll explain later."  
  
//Hokay. Where are you?//  
  
"In the basement."  
  
//I've have people there in three minutes.//  
  
"Good. Galahad Six out." She looked over at Suyuri. "Did you check the other office building?"  
  
"Thomas reports the place is clean," the ex-mercenary replied.  
  
"Get his people over here and shore up the defenses in this building. I want the armored cars nearby in case we have to pull out in a hurry."  
  
"Right. What about the other building?"  
  
"I'll have Galahad Black level it. How many other of our people are down here?"  
  
"I've got two wiring the place with incendiaries. They should be finished real quick."  
  
Chika nodded. "I want you upstairs keeping an eye on things."  
  
"Right."  
  
The raven haired woman turned to the other fighters. "When the troops Fuko sends down arrive, you have five minutes to grab as much cash as possible. Anything left over is to be piled up and a thermite grenade dropped on it. Once you've out of the basement, I want the stuff carried over to our location across the street, with one man to guard it until we pull back. I want the rest of you back ASAP."  
  
The three nodded. "One other thing," Chika said, her face becoming hard. "All the money you guys take had better be in those bags. I don't want any bundles 'accidently' dropping into your pockets. Everyone who's part of this will get their cut, so there's no need to be greedy, right?" Left unsaid was Chika's promise to make sure any thieves would find themselves missing a hand or two, but these were people familiar with her style, respected her, and knew better then to cross her. They nodded again.  
  
"Good." Chika opened her mike again. "Galahad Black, this is Galahad Six I have a fire mission for you...."  
  
 ************  
  
Gulf and Bradley - Japan Headquarters  
Sunday, December 23, 2035  
5:17am  
  
** Carlton Bradley peered around a corner. "Clear," he said, ignoring the sounds of the pitched battle going on outside. The fact that there were still explosions and gunfire told him that some of the security force was still alive. All they had to do was live long enough to allow him and the others to escape....  
  
The boomer behind him nodded and went around the corner first, followed by one the security men. The moved at a jog down the hall to a door on the left side of the hall, about halfway down. The door, marked 'JANITOR SUPPLIES', was an actual storeroom for cleaning supplies. But it also served as an access point for an emergency stairwell built in the core of the headquarters building, designed to allow executives to escape from a terrorist attack. The only people who actually knew about it in the city was limited to the Bradley twins, Ozu, as head of security, three of Ozu's people, and the quartet of boomers tasked with guarding Carlton Bradley.  
  
While the boomer stood guard, the human swiped his access card through the reader located next to the door. The door unlocked and the security man pulled it open. As soon as the door open, Carlton ran down the hall. He dashed into the closet, his eyes scanning for the spot he knew was there. He saw it almost at once - a small fuse box set against the far wall. Thrusting his pistol into his belt, he opened the faceplate and threw one breaker switch, waited two seconds, then threw another one. A soft 'snick' came from the panel, and the switch panel swung open, revealing a card slot, two small lights, and a small keypad.  
  
Carlton removed a card from his shirt pocket and shoved it into the slot. One of the lights came on, glowing green. Nodding to himself, the CEO punched in several numbers on the keypad. The second light glowed green and the a large section of the back wall opened.  
  
The senior Bradley turned and motioned to the security man in the doorway to go through the now open secret door. The man did so, his pistol up and ready to fire. After twenty seconds, he reappeared. "It's clear."  
  
Carlton nodded and went back to the door. "Move it!" he snarled at the rest of his party.  
  
Doctor Kyso and the stretcher bearers were around the corner first, followed by Cora and her personal bodyguard boomer. The third boomer and the last two security men stayed at the intersection, just in case.  
  
"Right," said Carlton, his voice low and clear. "Cora, I want you to go first. Make sure the way is clear. Wait for me at the bottom of the staircase."  
  
Cora nodded, though she didn't looked convinced. "What are you going to do?"  
  
"Leave our friends a little going away present."  
  
Cora's face broke into a grin. "The --"  
  
"Yes," replied Carlton quickly. "But that is between you and me."  
  
"Okay, Brother." she turned to the boomer beside her. "Come with me."  
  
As Cora and her boomer bodyguard went through the secret door, all hell broke loose.  
  
It was the boomer guarding the hall near the storage closet that raise the alarm first. With a sound that was somewhere between a shout and an animalistic roar, the boomer split out of it's human disguised and started deploying for battle. Carlton dove for cover inside the supply room, more concerned for his life at that moment then his dignity. The human security members moved at once to cover their leader, placing themselves between the attack and their boss. The other boomer turned to cover the rear, while the stretcher party flattened themselves on the carpet. Doctor Kyso, either out of deference for her healer's oath, or because she was scared of Carlton, threw herself onto her patient to shield the unconscious girl from any stray  
rounds.  
  
Even as the first boomer moved to attack, a burst of steel from the far end of the hall ripped into it with enough force to send the boomer reeling. Both the boomer's arms came up, firing several laser burst down the corridor. A 'crack', followed by a 'thud' knocked the guardian cyberdroid back a couple of paces. Almost at once, the boomer started trembling violently. The crackling of electricity and the smell of ozone were in the air, both emanating  
from the boomer. Another burst of lead decapitated the boomer, sending a fine mist of fluid and metal in all directions.  
  
As the first boomer's head exploded, the boomer acting as rear guard came under attack. It also exploded out of its human disguise, its mouth dropping open to uncover the laser that resided there. It fired at one, sending a bolt of ruby-red light in the direction of this new attack.  
  
The human security men were now adding their fire to the defense, their faces grim as they saw who their opponents were. While Doctor Kyso had thrown herself over the girl on the stretcher, the rest of the stretcher party drew their sidearms and looked nervously at the two prong battle.  
  
Carlton had gotten to his feet, his expression a mix of anger and bewilderment. "Who is it?" he snapped at the nearest security men, who was firing a pistol from the safety of the storeroom's doorway.  
  
"It's the Black Knights!" the security man snarled back. The slide on his pistol snapped back, so he thumbed the magazine release and replaced the spent magazine with a fresh clip.  
  
"The Knight Sabers are behind us!" another security man yelled, being close enough to heard Carlton's question. "We're trapped!"  
  
Another explosion came from the area of the hallway that the last boomer had been defending, followed by the sound of something heavy and metallic falling onto the floor. That was succeeded by a shout of "Here they come!"  
  
For the first time, Carlton felt fear move into his awareness. He turned and covered the distance between himself and the secret door in two strides. His placed his card into the slot again, then punched in another set of numbers. Satisfied that the code had been accepted, he shouted at the security man, "Get every one in here no--"  
  
The last word was barely out of his mouth when a pair of hardsuits appeared behind the man, grabbed him by the arms and threw him into the wall across from the door. He struck the wall with a solid thud and slumped to the ground.  
  
It was right then that Carlton Bradley knew his plans had failed, and these were the people behind that failure. But even as he took a step back, part of him gearing up to run, the analytical part of his mind was taking in details of the two in the doorway, filing everything away for further study.  
  
The one wearing the white hardsuit was a woman, he noted in the back of his mind, probably the leader of the Knight Sabers, or at least the hardsuit matched the description he had of her. The other one was wore the ebony armor of a Black Knight,presumably the one they called Knight One. Both well known for their work and neither one known for their mercy. And all Carlton had was a single semi-automatic pistol.  
  
Not very good odds at all.  
  
Even as both hardsuited people turned towards him, Carlton throw himself through the doorway into the emergency stairwell. He bounced off the opposite wall of the narrow landing and use the momentum to shoved the door shut with a burst of fear-induced strength. He relaxed slightly when he heard the lock click into place, but he didn't know how long the door would hold.  
  
From the landing below, Cora looked up. "What's happening up there?" she called out.  
  
"Our plans going up in smoke," Carlton replied sharply. "The Knight Sabers and the Black Knights."  
  
His sister nodded. "We're it."  
  
"We'd better get moving. I have no intention of being here when the devices goes off."  
  
Cora's eyes flashed with pleasure. "You managed to set it."  
  
"I did. We'd better get moving."  
  
Pulling out his pistol, Carlton started down the stairs, two at a time. Without waiting for him, Cora and her Boomer started down before him. As each flight of stairs passed under his feet, and with no sight and sound of pursuit, Carlton's bout of fear faded away, replaced with the anger again. It was clear that his plans had failed -- this time. But he only had to be lucky once. And he was patient, he would wait for the right time to strike.  
  
He couldn't be patient now, though. The timer had a ten minute setting and they needed to be free and clear before the entire building collapsed upon itself. A streak of vindictiveness hoped that they were still all up there when the devices detonated. It would solve more then one problem....  
  
 ************  
  
** Greg slammed a hardsuited fist into the wall Carlton had passed through. "Damn it!" he snarled.  
  
"Was that Carlton Bradley?" Sylia asked.  
  
Knight One took a deep breath. "Yes." he replied. "I wanted to give the bastard a down payment on what he owes Janie."  
  
"Worry about that later. Let's see how she is."  
  
The two of them emerged from the storeroom. The Knights and Sabers had quickly moved in before the stunned Gulf and Bradley people could recover. Now while Red Three and Four, along with Nene, watched the prisoners, one of the MALCORP troopers was examining the girl on the stretcher.  
  
"How is she?' Knight One asked, his voice hard.  
  
"She's breathing," replied the trooper, a fully qualified combat medic less then six months out of the service. "But I sure wouldn't want to have to move her."  
  
"We have no choice."  
  
The medic nodded. "I know. I just hope this capsule works as advertised."  
  
Just then Leon and a pair of MALCORP troopers came hurriedly around a corner, carrying the cryogenic capsule. "Here it is," the ex-inspector called out.  
  
Knight One turned to look at the prisoners. "Doctor Kyso," he said, his voice cold as a blast of arctic air.  
  
The woman sitting on the floor along with the other prisoners tried her best too look unafraid, but the past twenty minutes had wrecked any sense of courage from her. "Wh-what do you want?" she stammered. "Who are you?"  
  
Knight One walked over and looked down at the physician. "What happened?" he asked.  
  
"Wha-what do you mean?"  
  
"What happened to Janie VanDell?"  
  
"I-I don't -- ugh!"  
  
Moving like a cobra, Greg reached down and grabbed Kyso by the lapels. In a flash, she was slammed up against the wall, staring directly into Knight One's visor, leaving her dangling more than a third of a meter off the floor. "I will ask one more time," he said, his voice barely a whisper. "What happened to Janie VanDell that caused her to be in this condition?"  
  
Sylia placed a hand on Greg's arm. "Don't," she said softly. "Don't take your anger for the Bradleys out on her. She isn't worth it."  
  
"Jesus and Mother of God," breathed the medic examining Janie.  
  
In one motion, Greg dropped the scared doctor, turned and strode over to the stretcher. The medic had thrown the covers back, uncovered the girl's body and the scars and burns that covered it. Several of the troopers looked sick, while even Leon, who had seen plenty of wounds and injuries looked pale.  
  
Before Greg could turn back towards the prisoners, White Saber said sharply, "Don't even think about it. It's not worth killing them for it."  
  
Knight One wheeled to look at his co-leader. Even though she couldn't see his face, Sylia know Greg Mallory was in a towering rage. "Why shouldn't I?" he asked her, his voice cold and intense. "This is a fourteen year old girl! She had nothing to do with any of this!"  
  
"It wasn't any of us!" one of the prisoners, a security man from his suit, shouted.  
  
Knight One's head swivelled to look at him. "Then who did?"  
  
"Co-Cora Bradley," the man spluttered, looking even more scared then Doctor Kyso had. "She was...." With an audible click, his jaw snapped shut as he found himself staring down the barrel of the Black Knight's arm laser.  
  
"Where is she?"  
  
"She went into the escape stairwell just before you attacked," the man replied, his words tumbling out of his mouth as fast as he could say them.  
  
"Where is Doctor Zin-Choon?"  
  
"No-no one's seen him si-since the attack started."  
  
Knight One took a step closer until the muzzle of the laser was almost touching the man's sweating forehead. "Give me one good reason why I shouldn't blow a hole through your head right this instant."  
  
"That's enough!" Sylia snapped, stepping forward to push Knight One's laser away from the nearly panicky man. "To kill him here and now would be murder!"  
  
"And what do you call what they did to her?" he replied, his voice as hard as a diamond. "They allowed that poor girl to be tortured! Why should their lives be spared for that barbarity?"  
  
Red Two moved to stand next to his leader. "The White Saber is right," he said, his voice gentle. "These people aren't worth the waste of power to kill them."  
  
Greg turned to look at his teammate. "That does not apply to either Cora or Carlton. After this, they are walking dead people." He thought for a moment. "That also includes Zin-Choon. All three have lost the right to be considered human."  
  
"You won't get an argument from me, or any other Black Knight, on that. If we see them, they are dead." Sylia noticed both Red Three and Four nodding their heads in agreement.  
  
"Fine," replied Knight One flatly. "Can Janie be moved?"  
  
"We're working on it," the medic replied, removing a syringe for a belt pouch. "We're injecting her with stabilizing drugs right now."  
  
Sylia looked at Greg for an explanation. "The drugs will keep Janie alive while she's in the capsule," he said in a distant voice, his eyes never leaving the rescue attempt.  
  
"Sylia," said Nene over the Saber's private channel. "I'm picking up some odd readings."  
  
"What sort of readings?"  
  
"I think it's a power build-up of some type."  
  
"Where is it coming from?"  
  
"The basement."  
  
Sylia switched to the private command channel. "Greg, Red Saber has picked up a power build-up in the basement. Can your people confirm?"  
  
"Wait one." Knight One turned towards Red Four. After about fifteen seconds, he turned back to Sylia. "Confirmed. Do you think it's a bomb?"  
  
"It might be. I think we should get out of here."  
  
Greg strode over to the medic. "How long before she's read to move?"  
  
"At least five minutes, maybe ten. I have to make sure she's stable before we put her into the capsule."  
  
"I don't think we have ten minutes," said Red Four. "Those power readings are increasing awfully fast. I think we may have seven minutes before an explosion takes out this entire building."  
  
"He's right," the security man who had come within seconds of being killed said tiredly. "I saw Mr. Bradley enter a code into the security station right before he escaped."  
  
Sylia looked at Nene. "Do you think he's telling the truth?"  
  
"Possible," she replied, "I'd have to see the station first."  
  
"It's in the storeroom on the wall," the security man said helpfully.  
  
"What are you doing, Chasen?" one of the other security men asked him. "They're the enemy!"  
  
"Well, the only thing that's between us and being killed is them!" Chasen shouted back. He turned to the White Saber. "About three months back, Carlton Bradley installed a series of devices designed to take out all the building's supports in case of a successful terrorist attack and seizure of the building. Laser cutters, designed to slice through the reenforced concrete supports and collapse the building on top of itself."  
  
"That's a bit drastic," replied Red Four.  
  
"Some of the security people thought the same way, but Ozu overruled them. The devices were put into place and the detonating command sequence was hardwired into the emergency security computer system."  
  
"How long do we have?" asked Sylia.  
  
"Maybe seven minutes."  
  
"That's no good!" said the medic. "The stabilizing drugs are going to take at least five minutes to take effect, and we're at least another three minutes from the LZ!"  
  
Sylia turned to Nene, but the EW specialist was already heading for the storeroom, Red Four right behind her. They both darted in, with Sylia and Greg trailing them.  
  
The two computer experts looked at the security station. "What do you think?" Red Four asked his Saber counterpart.  
  
"Looks like a standard card reader and keypad combination," the pink and blue Saber replied.  
  
"You'd better take point on this," Red Four said. He held up his rifle. "I'm geared up more for combat then cracking right now. I can support you, but you're going to have to do most of the work."  
  
"Right."  
  
"You'd better hurry," said Knight One. "Tristan's reporting that there's GENOM combat boomers inside the building, evidently on a search and destroy mission." He was silent for a moment, then he said grimly, "Tristan's now reporting a new group of boomers, with energy shielding are attacking the GENOM boomers still outside the building."  
  
"I can confirm that," said Red Three. "I'm eyeballing the situation right now. If the situations wasn't so serious, it'd entertaining to watch."  
  
"So we're running into time pressures coming at us from all sides," said Greg. He turned to Red Two. "You'd better secure the stairwell and take out the elevators. "It won't stop them, but we'll need ever second we can squeeze out."  
  
"Right," replied the heavy weapons member of the team. "I'm going to need a hand."  
  
"Take Red Three and three of the troopers. I don't want anything fancy done with the elevators, just make sure the boomers can't use them."  
  
"Right."  
  
"I'm sending Green Saber along with your people," said Sylia. Linna simply nodded in agreement.  
  
"I have no problem with that," Red Two said. "We're going to need the help."  
  
Knight One motioned with his head. "Go."  
  
Red Two moved off, his electronically filtered voice calling out the name of three of the black clad MALCORP warriors. Red Three and Linna joined them, and the group dashed around the corner and out of sight.  
  
"This is going to be a tough ten minutes," Greg said to Sylia over their private channel.  
  
"I know, but it's going to be the most important ten minutes of the mission."  
  
"It doesn't make it any easier." There was some frustration in his voice that Sylia could sympathize with.  
  
"I know, but all we can do now is hold on and wait."  
  
 ************  
**  



	41. Chapter 41

===================================================================== ======  
  
 **Chapter 41  
  
Gulf and Bradley Biomechanical Research Institute  
Sunday, December 23, 2035  
5:22am  
  
** The security boomer was hit with a wave of heavy machine fire, lasers, and gauss needles that turn the killing machine into a pile of broken limbs and spurting yellowish-orange fluid that spattered the walls and floor of the corridor.  
  
The smoke hung in the air of the corridor like a unwilling wraith until it began to disperse. "Is that the last of them?" Skeeter asked, removing the magazine from his machine gun and replacing it with a fresh clip.  
  
"I think so," replied White One. He glanced back at White Three, who nodded. "It looks like we got them all."  
  
"Fine," replied the giant. He looked at the squad that had come down the elevator shaft with them. "All right, spread out and start looking! I want live bodies and undamaged computer systems! You've got five minutes! Move!"  
  
The armed group scattered, leaving Skeeter and the two Black Knights alone in the hall. "Any idea how many more sublevels we're going to have to give the once over?" the gang leader asked, slipping a new grenade into the launcher under the barrel of his weapon.  
  
"If we don't find something on this floor, there's two more under this one," replied White Three."  
  
"Wonderful," the giant muttered. "We didn't find anything on the four sub-levels above this one." He activated his radio. "Gawain Six to Back Door. Status report!"  
  
//Back Door here,// said the squad leader left in charge of the lobby. //No change so far, but we're hearing a lot of noise coming from floors above us. White Two think we've got five minutes before we find ourselves hip deep in mechanized munches.//  
  
"Understood. Is Gawain Five aware of the situation?"  
  
//Affirmative. He's got his team covering as much of the outside as they can manage. Permissions to blow the elevator shafts and stairwells?//  
  
Skeeter closed his eyes. "Only if the boomers use them," he said in a patient tone. "I don't want to burry our only way out of this hole, especially with me in it! Understand?"  
  
//Oh! Er....Affirmative. Just make it quick, Okay? We're beginning to feel like Custer and the Seventh Calvary here.//  
  
"Understood. As soon as Third and Fourth Squads are done with sweeping their sublevels, I'm sending them back up. Are the demolition charges in place?"  
  
//Affirmative. We can flatten this place on your say-so.//  
  
"Good. Gawain Six out." Skeeter drew the bolt of his machine gun back, sending a fresh round into the chamber. "Move it people!" he called out over his radio. "Our back door's about to have some unwelcome visitors who are not going to take 'no' for an answer. Third Squad! Fourth Squad! How much longer do you have until you're finished with your sublevels?"  
  
Suddenly, there was a hiss of superheated air as a laser bolt shot out of a side corridor and slammed into the wall ten meters from the trio. That was followed by several shots and a lot of yelling from several of Skeeter's men.  
  
Skeeter cover the distance in a dozen swift strides. His machine gun ready to fire at any unwelcome targets. "Hosokoawa!" He bellowed, partly into his radio, but mostly to be heard in the hallway. "What the Hell is going on?"  
  
Hosokoawa darted from around the corner the laser had come and looked up at his leader. "We found some live ones in the storage room, Boss," he said hurriedly. 'They must have rigged an extra boomer weapon or two. Nearly took Lankan's head off. As it is, he won't need a haircut for the next month."  
  
"Where's the door?"  
  
"End of the hall. It's the one with the large hole in it."  
  
Skeeter leaned around the corner. The rest of the squad was either prone on the floor or squeezed into doorways that lined the hall. But all had their weapons pointed at the door at the far end of the hall, about thirty meters away. The door itself had a large hole in it about the size of a softball, and about chest high. The door had been an off-green in color before, but there was now more black charring then green to be seen. A mix of burnt ozone and plastic floated along with the thin haze of smoke.  
  
"How do you want to do this?" asked White One. "We don't have time to talk them out!"  
  
"Leave that to me," growled Skeeter. "You in the storeroom! Can you hear me?"  
  
"Yes!" a muffled voice replied. "What do you want?"  
  
"You have a choice! You have five seconds to come up of that storeroom, unarmed and with your hands up!'  
  
"And if we don't come out?"  
  
Skeeter spun so he was standing out in the middle of the hallway. His finger tighten around the trigger of the grenade launcher, sending a round flying down the corridor. The grenade slammed into the ceiling just above the storeroom's door and exploded, bringing down a knee high pile of ceiling tile, concrete, and ruptured piping. "That will happen," the giant shouted. "Only my next round and every round after that will be through the door. You have five seconds."  
  
Skeeter's men, use to their leader's style, were prepared for the demonstration. The people in the storeroom, most who had never fired a shot in anger, were not. After about three seconds, the door was opened violently and the half stunned technicians stumbled out, hands raised, all their faces showing the same terror and uncertainty. There were about a dozen of them, dress in a mix of day clothes and sleepware. Skeeter's troops scrambled forward to take charge of the prisoners.  
  
"An interesting technique," White One remarked.  
  
"There are times to use a scalpel and there are times to use a sledgehammer," replied Skeeter, opening the breech of his grenade launcher and replacing the spent round with a fresh one. "This was a sledgehammer time."  
  
"Assuming these techs have anything to tell us," said White Three.  
  
White One was watching the prisoners as they were quickly searched. Suddenly, he stiffened and stared hard at one of the prisoners. "I want to talk to that man," he said pointing at an older man with a thin mustache and short graying hair.  
  
Skeeter nodded. "Hosokoawa!" he bellowed, pointing at the man White One had picked up. The squad leader nodded in reply, gammed the unprotesting man by the arm and escorted him to the two Black Knights and Skeeter.  
  
White One leaned forward and stared at the man, who was dressed in dust smeared pajamas and a worn bathrobe. "Doctor Richard Mclaren, I presume?"  
  
The man shrank back from the hardsuited figure. "A Black Knight here?" he managed to gasp out. "But why? How?"  
  
"That's no concern of yours Doctor," White One replied cooly  
  
"You know this one?" asked Skeeter.  
  
"One of G and B's top boomer designers until he ran into a small problem with the law over a small matter of manufacturing combat boomers inside the borders of Japan." White One tapped Mclaren in the chest. "The funny thing is, he's suppose to still be in jail."  
  
"I-I was, until the twins decided that they could use me," Mclaren replied shakily. "I wasn't given a choice in the matter."  
  
"Do you know about the shield equipped boomers?"  
  
Mclaren nodded. "That's why they yanked me out of prison. They've had me down here for over two months building the generators and modifying the boomers to carry them."  
  
"For that long?" asked White Three.  
  
"We've only gotten decent design specs in the last several days."  
  
"From where?" asked White One. "Does Carlton Bradley have an R&D lab somewhere?"  
  
"I don't know. Carlton Bradley either sends them over, or delivers the design specs himself. I have no idea where he's getting them from."  
  
"I don't believe him," said Skeeter in a flat voice.  
  
"He could be telling us the truth," White Three said.  
  
"And maybe Quincy is the lead singer in a grunge band," replied the gang leader in a low menacing voice, "but I kind of doubt it." He looked down on the cringing PhD. "I think my people could use some target practice," he said in a cold, still voice.  
  
"It-it's true!" Mclaren stammered. Carlton Bradley was a psychopath, but compared to this dark-skinned giant here and now, Carlton was a minor danger somewhere off in the distance. "They forced me to work on this insane plan of theirs!"  
  
Skeeter let his machine gun dangle by the strap and cracked his knuckles. "On the other hand, I haven't had a chance to practice on a live sparing partner in a while."  
  
Hosokoawa, who was still standing behind Mclaren, shrugged. "Not since Ronnie Yee."  
  
Mclaren's face went white. He should have realized it as soon as he saw him. "You're Karns!" he managed to get out.  
  
"I see you've heard of me," Skeeter replied.  
  
"What happened to the Red Cobras was the main topic of conversation in the prison yard for weeks after they were wiped out." Mclaren looked at White One. "I'll tell you anything you want to know, but only if you keep Karns from killing me!"  
  
The gang leader shrugged. "If you want him, he's yours," he said to White One. "But if not," he continued, his expression unreadable, "I'll take him."  
  
"I think our employer will want to discuss this matter with Doctor Mclaren," replied the Black Knight.  
  
"I'll tell him anything he wants to know!" said Mclaren quickly. "I'll call up all the files you want, the schematics for the generator, anything you want!" The mix of Bradley's constant pressure, Mclaren's lack of sleep, the sudden attack, the near miss of the grenade, and the presence of Skeeter Karns had shattered the shell that he had spent months building up while in prison. Right now, a cell somewhere was looking very good right now.  
  
"I'll get started on the downloads," White Three said. She grabbed Mclaren by the arm. "You're coming with me," she said firmly. "I need you to show me the right computers and the to supply the correct passwords. And I will warn you once -- keep your hands to yourself, or you're going to lose them. Your choice." With that, she dragged the shell-shocked doctor away.  
  
"Get them all out of here," Skeeter barked to Hosokoawa. "Then, get the squad to plant as much plastique as they can in five minutes." Hosokoawa nodded and stated barking out orders. The gang leader activated his mike again. "This is Gawain Six to all units. We have what we came for people!" he growled. "Third and Fourth squads -- break off your search and reenforce Back Door. Hold until we join you, our ETA is ten minutes. Gawain Five, stand by to cover our withdrawal. We're halfway home people, but we're not out of the woods yet. Gawain Six, out."  
  
"You certainly scared the shit out of Mclaren," White One remarked.  
  
"It didn't take much," the giant replied.  
  
"I thought he'd have a heart attack when you talked about using him for a punching bag. You almost had me convinced you were serious."  
  
Skeeter looked at him. "Whatever made you think I wasn't serious?"  
  
You mean you would have --"  
  
"Beaten the hell out of him?" Skeeter shrugged. "I doubt I would have to do anything more then grab him by the throat and tell him which bones I would break first before he would have started talking anyway."  
  
"Isn't that a bit...."  
  
"I believe 'barbaric' is the term you're looking for. But my world is made up of almost nothing but barbarians. All they understand is force. Not the 'appearance' of force, not the 'threat' of force, but solid, overwhelming force applied quickly and in the right place. I never make a theat unless I have the means and the will the carry it through to the end. It's the only way I and the people who follow me can survive." Skeeter surveyed the hall. "I'd better get my people moving."  
  
He strode off down the hall, bellowing for Hosokoawa. White One watched him for several seconds before he went after White Three and Mclaren. If Skeeter was going to stick to his timetable, then they have very little time to grab anything more then the most important stuff off the computers. He hoped they had enough time to do that....  
  
 ************  
  
Gulf and Bradley - Japan Headquarters  
Sunday, December 23, 2035  
5:23am  
  
** The hallway had fallen strangely silent in the last minute. Both Nene and Red Four were working on defusing the laser charges, while their respective leaders watched them. The medic, with the assistance of a white-face Doctor Kyso, was in the midst of stabilizing the injured VanDell girl. Leon and the last trooper were tasked with guarding the prisoners.  
  
Next to the stretcher, the cryogenic capsule was open, ready to be used. It reminded Sylia uncomfortably of a coffin. The capsule was about seven foot long, dull black in color and its shape was that of a somewhat flatten cylinder. There was a clearfaceplate about where the face would be, and below that a small panel with lights and indicators sat. A series of U-  
shaped handles were welded to the lower half of the capsule, allowing it to be carried.  
  
The sound of a nearby explosion made the everyone except the two computer experts to look down the hall. The walls vibrated and a thin layer of dust began to drift down from the ceiling.  
  
"That's not my people," said Knight One softly. The fury that had consumed him before was now under control, but it still had lost none of its strength.  
  
"That sounds like a shell of some type," agreed Sylia. She turned to look at Nene and the Red Four. "How are you two doing?" she asked.  
  
"We're making progress," Nene replied. "They didn't take the time to integrate the wiring and programming into the normal security systems, but they did add a lot of redundancy that we're going to have to hack through."  
  
"You're running out of time."  
  
"We know. It'll be close, but I think we can make it."  
  
Another explosion, closer this time, echoed through the hall. The prisoners shifted uneasily and even Leon and the other MALCORP trooper looked nervous. Kyso and the medic continued working.  
  
There was a series of small explosions, mixed in with gunfire, that seemed to be very close by. Sylia and Greg looked at each other.  
  
"I don't like this," said Greg, glancing up and down the hall. "It's --"  
  
Sylia caught a flash of brown and tan at the far end of the hall. Even as her arm came up and began tracking, she recognized the silhouette. "BOOMER!"  
  
Leon and the other unarmored trooper, both veterans, dropped without hesitation. Knight One was only a split second behind White Saber, but he fired first. Sylia and the others were a close second, even as the boomer, a BU-12 commando, raised it's own weapon to fire. Lasers and armor-piercing bullets struck it, sending sparks and miniature explosions across the boomer's entire body.  
  
Sylia heard someone behind her yell, "Drop!" and she threw herself down just assomething was fired from behind her and flew over her head. The projectile struck the staggering cyberdroid and immediately, the sparks became compact balls of lightning that began to play across the armored skin. With several small explosions that shredded several sections of its  
body, the BU-12 fell over.  
  
"Everyone all right?" Red Four asked from the doorway of the storeroom, the muzzle of his rifle still pointed in the direction of the downed boomer.  
  
"We're fine," snapped Knight One. "Get back to the cracking that self-destruction system."  
  
"Right." Red Four popped back inside the storeroom.  
  
Sylia stood up slowly. "There's going to be more of them," she said.  
  
//Red Two to Knight One,// said a voice over the common channel. //We've got problems.//  
  
"We've got boomers on this floor," said Greg.  
  
//I take it you already know.//  
  
"We just ran into one. He isn't getting up anytime soon."  
  
//Sorry. They came through a hole in the wall and almost into out laps before we knew it. We got caught up in a 'mad minute' and took down two of his buddies, but we're expecting more guests in the near future. Those new boomers of Bradley's are slowing down GENOM's combat boomers, but their shields can't handle the firepower that Quincy's machines are putting out.//  
  
"In that case, forget the elevators and secure the stairwell. We're out of here as soon as Janie is stable and in the capsule."  
  
//Right. We're heading for the staircase right this second. You'd better boogie ASAP, Bro. I'm beginning to loose track of who's side we're on.//  
  
"The same side we've always been on, the side of the angels."  
  
//Well, the next time you talk to them, ask for more warning next time we have to fight the minions of darkness. This mission is playing havoc with my holiday plans.//  
  
"I'll tell them. Get going."  
  
//On our way. Red Two out.//  
  
"Okay!" shouted the medic. "She's stable enough to be moved!"  
  
Nene stuck her head out the door of the storeroom. "We've shut down the self-destruct devices!" she said excitedly, "And opened the door!"  
  
"They're too far away for us to go after," Sylia reminded Greg.  
  
"I know, but that doesn't make it better." Knight One motioned towards the girl on the stretcher, letting some of the hate rise into his voice. "For now, I'll have to settle getting her back to her mother and make sure that she'll have the best medical care she can get. But the Bradleys will pay for this. . . brutality, even if I have to do it myself. That is a promise."  
  
"What about the prisoners?" Leon asked.  
  
Greg looked at the blue-and-pink Saber. "You said the door to the escape staircase is open?"  
  
Nene nodded. Greg looked at the prisoners. "You have two minutes to get down that staircase," he said in a cold voice. "After that, all bets are off."  
  
Given a glimmer of hope, none of the Gulf and Bradley employees wasted the chance. Like a pack of frighten lemmings, they charged into the storeroom, past the two hardsuits and into the stairwell. The last one into the storeroom was Doctor Kyso. She stopped and turned to face the two leaders. "I'm sorry it came to this," she said softly.  
  
"I'd advise you to find another position," replied Knight One in the same cool voice. "The Bradley twins are walking dead, as is anyone who is still allied with them."  
  
Kyso nodded, a intermingling of fear and sorrow on her pale face. "Only two things stopped me from resigning before this," she said. She motioned to Janie. "One was that girl. There was no way in hell I could have looked at myself in the mirror if I'd walked out on her." she sighed. "The second reason is more mundane -- If I had tried to resign, Carlton Bradley would have killed me."  
  
"You've been given a second chance," said Sylia. "Don't waste it."  
  
"I'll give it my best shot. Good-bye and good luck." With that, she strode through the door and into the stairwell.  
  
"Can you lock the door again?" Knight One asked Nene.  
  
"No problem."  
  
"Do so. Make sure those devices stay dead. I'm sure the police would love to see another example of the twin's disregard for life other then their own."  
  
"Right!" Nene disappeared back into the storeroom.  
  
"I'm going to need help putting her into the capsule," said the medic.  
  
Leon and the other trooper moved over to the stretcher and under the medic's supervision, lifted her off the stretcher and into the capsule. The medic closed the capsule's lid, secured it, and with some trepidation, he pressed a large red button on the side of the unit. The unit hissed and the small clear faceplate in the lid became thick with frost. After about five seconds, the hissing stopped and the medic checked the small panel just under the faceplate. "She's stable," he said after ten seconds. "We can move her now."  
  
"All right," said Knight One. "How many do you need to carry the capsule?"  
  
"We can get by with three for the short haul."  
  
The leader of the Black Knights motioned to the trio not wearing hardsuits. "You three carry the capsule." he looked at Sylia. "Do you want point, or rear guard?"  
  
"Rear guard," the White Saber answered.  
  
"Funny, I had the same thought."  
  
Red Four and Red Saber came out of the storeroom. "All fixed," the Saber member of the pair said. "Nothing short of explosives will open that door now."  
  
"Good. I want you two to take point, while Me and White Saber will take the rear guard. Red Two and the rest of our group will meet us at the stairwell. I want scanners on full and expect trouble. We've come too far to become lazy now."  
  
"Right, Boss," said Red Four  
  
The pair started up the hall at a quick jog. The MALCORP troopers reached down, each grabbed a handle built into the and lifted the heavy unit. At a quick walk, they lugged the life support unit in pursuit of the point people. After several seconds, Greg and Sylia started after them. As they stated out, Greg opened the common channel. "Knight One to Red Two. We're on our way."  
  
 _**********  
  
_ Doctor Yin Zin-Choon was feeling something he hadn't experienced in years -- Fear.  
  
He crouched in a empty office, five stories above the ongoing battle in the street, watching the fight with some dread. The boomers attacking the building, Zin-Choon guessed that were from GENOM, were in turn attacked by other boomers that had appeared out of nowhere.  
  
The Doctor didn't wonder where the second group of boomers had come from. His knowledge of technology outside of his field was limited, but he knew why the Bradleys had hired him and he recognized the possibilities with this new technology. But a look outside told him that the technology applications were still in its early stages. Even with the element of surprise and some sort of shielding, the new Gulf and Bradley's boomers were being destroyed by the heavier armed combat boomers. Still, the GENOM boomers were suffering losses themselves and the fewer boomers left, the greater the chance of escape.  
  
Zin-Choon watched the battle in silence, his mind working on a possible escape plan. The last twelve hours had turn an interesting, if somewhat unusual, case of information retrieval into a complete and all-out disaster. He'd been getting ready for the next interrogation session with the VanDell girl when the attacked started. A couple of phone calls before the internal lines went dead had failed to get hold of either Carlton Bradley or his sister. Under the circumstances, getting out of the building as quickly as possible was the prudent thing to do. So, he'd left and tried to escape the battle.  
  
But getting out was difficult, Between the fires, explosions, and the boomers of both sides shooting at anything moving, regardless of affiliation, a simple task had become a nightmare. Armed with only a small automatic, Zin-Choon knew if he met any boomers, he'd die.  
  
Still, he might cheat death yet again. The GENOM boomers were now concentrating on the immediate threat of the Gulf and Bradley boomers. If luck was with him, he could get out. Which what he had in his briefcase, he might not only come out alive, but well-paid to boot.  
  
He reached down and caressed the briefcase. He had always been a careful man, careful not to make a final report until he was sure the subject had told him everything of value. Janie, by slashing her wrists, had delayed the final session, but she had said enough. Zin-Choon had delayed telling Carlton anything important until he was certain the girl had told him everything, but the information he had already sifted from her mind was still valuable.  
  
With the record of the transcripts he had in the attach‚, any Megacorps would save months of research, months saved that they would be willing to pay for. GENOM would, for one, as would the main branch of Gulf and Bradley. Maybe even MALCORP....  
  
Zin-Choon didn't care about the consequences, money being more important then vague ideas like 'responsibility' and 'accountability'. All he did was supply the data asked for by his employers. He had no say on what they did with the data or how it was used after he had turned it over to them, and he frankly didn't care. He was a retriever of information, not someone who would act upon it.  
  
A 125 millimeter shell slamming into the office two doors down from his current location told the Doctor it was time to move. He went to the office door with a swiftness that belie his age, and carefully open the door. The hallway was empty. Seizing his chance, he stepped out into the hall and started down the corridor.  
  
It was then that Fate, or an unseen hand of vengeance, made itself known.  
  
Doctor Yin Zin-Choon was ten meters away from the office door when a pair of tan-and-brown BU-12 boomers came around the corner in front of him. Even as the shock of the sudden appearance flashed through the human's mind, a trio of GBS-33 came charging down the corridor from the opposite direction.  
  
The two sets of boomers, while operating under different protocols, had very much the same set of instructions: search for and destroy the enemy. In the case of the Gulf and Bradley boomers, they were operating under the Zeta Protocols, which turned the boomers into psychopathic killers of everything and everyone in and around the building with the exception of their own model. The GENOM boomers, on the other hand, were following their own programming with some updated priorities to take in account certain members of the Gulf and Bradley leadership. However, Doctor Yin Zin-Choon was not one of those in the GENOM boomers' memory.  
  
To be fair to the boomers, both sides were targeting the other boomers when they opened fire. But they had neglected to consider the human between them as nothing more then a minor obstacle between them and the real targets. The corridor filled with laser and bullets as each side tried to erase the other through sheer firepower.  
  
Caught between the two sides and that much firepower, Doctor Yin Zin-Choon could only do one thing -- he died. For a brief instance, he felt much of the pain he had dealt out over the years, as lasers and bullets tore into his body, but the time passed and so did the doctor's life. In a matter of seconds, the only thing left of the torture specialist was a shattered, charred corpse. The briefcase he had carried was nothing more then a burnt lump of ash, it's contents destroyed.  
  
Heedless of the Doctor's gruesome death, the two sides continued to blaze away at the other side. Two of the GBS-33 fell quickly, smoke and fluids pouring out of every tear in their armor, but the third hung on long enough to fire a shot that amputated the right arm of one of the BU-12s. The blistering return fire from the two BU-12's annihilated the last GBS-33.  
  
As soon as the last Gulf and Bradley boomer fell, the two GENOM boomers stopped firing and scanned the hallway. Satisfied that there were no more threats present, then moved on, continuing their programed mission....  
  
 ************  
  
Near Gulf and Bradley - Japan Headquarters Building  
Sunday, December 23, 2035  
5:26am  
  
** The tunnel was narrow and for the most part, dark. The only light came from the flashlights that all three escapees carried. The Boomer bodyguard lead the way, followed by Cora, with Carlton brining up the rear, occasionally looking back over his shoulder for any signs of pursuit. He wrinkled his nose at the smell, but compared to what was behind him, it was a minor thing.  
  
The stairwell had connected to a sub-basement that, in turn, lead to this tunnel. The tunnel itself ran adjacent to the sewers for a couple of kilometers before it would lead to an underground garage and escape vehicles. But while the tunnel was separate and had no direct access to the sewers, the smell somehow permeated through the walls and into the tunnel. The Boomer bodyguard assured his charges that the air, while foul smelling, was still breathable.  
  
"How long before those charges go off?" Cora asked, her voice echoing in the tunnel.  
  
Carlton glanced at his watch. "Another minute," he said.  
  
"Are we far enough away?"  
  
"I think so. We are well outside the blast radius." He addressed the boomer. "Jiro, how long before we reach the garage?"  
  
"A minimum of another ten minutes at out current rate of speed, Sir," the boomer replied.  
  
"Pick up the pace."  
  
"Yes Sir." The boomer immediately began to walk faster, forcing the Bradley twins to pick up their own pace. The floor of the tunnel, dry and free of any mold or mildews, echoed with the increased tempo.  
  
They walked along in silence until Carlton said, "Stop."  
  
Cora turned to look at her brother. "What's wrong?" she asked.  
  
The charges should have gone off by now."  
  
Cora frowned. "Maybe we're too far away to hear them."  
  
"But we should have felt them, at the very least."  
  
"Do you think the Sabers and Knights stopped the charges going off?"  
  
"A disturbing but very real possibility."  
  
"They could have gotten the door open too."  
  
"True." Carlton looked at the bodyguard. "Jiro, how far are we from the garage?"  
  
"Approximately seven hundred meters, Sir."  
  
"Good. I want you to go and secure the garage for us. Make sure it has not been compromised. If it has not, prepare the best of the escape vehicles, then come back to us. If it has been compromised, scout out the situation and come back to us for further orders. You are not to initiate combat unless there is opposition and you have been seen by them. Do you understand your orders?"  
  
"Yes Sir."  
  
"Then go."  
  
The boomer turned and started down the tunnel, moving quicker then it had before. Cora and Carlton followed at a slower pace, but still quicker then before. In a matter of minutes, the illumination from the boomer's flashlight had vanished in the darkness.  
  
"I wish we had mined the tunnel too!" Cora hissed. "We could have dropped it on their heads!"  
  
"No use crying over spilt milk," Carlton said easily. "Even if they managed to open the door to the stairwell, we have too great a lead for them to catch us now."  
  
"I hope you're right. We can't let this go unpunished, brother. We must have our revenge."  
  
"And we will, but here and now is not the place and time for it. We must escape first, then we can strike at a time and place of our own choosing."  
  
The conversation died after that, as both concentrated on reaching the safety of the garage.  
  
 ************  
**


	42. Chapter 42

===================================================================== ======  
  
 **Chapter 42  
  
ARNPTSE Storage compound  
Sunday, December 23, 2035  
5:26am  
  
** "Here they come again!"  
  
Chika snarled a harsh word and went to the window. The threat of dawn was in the air, but the group of about three dozen men charging out of the warehouses towards her position was more dangerous. The ground between the warehouses and the single standing office building was littered with shallow craters, torn up swaths of dirt, shattered concrete and the equally fragmented bodies of a dozen Yakuza gunmen. The area was backlit with the out-of-control fires raging through the warehouses, and Chika was concerned that the fire department was going to put in an appearance at any moment.  
  
This was the third time in the last five minutes the Yakuza gunmen had tried to assault her people's position, and Chika was angry at the stupidity of the leaders. "Wait until they're closer this time!" she snapped into her radio. "We want them in range of the claymores!"  
  
//Hokay, Boss.//  
  
"Why the hell are they doing this?" Chika hissed out loud.  
  
Suyuri, who was in the room with her, shrugged. "Given a choice between having to explain to Sato why they lost one of his drug labs and dying, most are choosing to die."  
  
"That's stupid!" Chika snarled.  
  
The ex-solider shrugged again. "Which would you rather do -- fight boomers with no heavy weapons of any type, explain to your Oyabun how you managed to loose an entire drug lab to another gang, or try and kill us and regain control of the lab? The worse we can do to them is shoot or frag them. Boomers aren't as considerate, and neither is Sato."  
  
Chika ignore him for the moment. "Galahad Six to Galahad Red Six. What is your location?"  
  
The channel was scratchy and //...three minutes....We have one seriously wounded Knight....four dead among Galahad Blue.//  
  
"Damn interference," she muttered. "Galahad Six to Galahad Black. Can you see Galahad Red and Blue?"  
  
//Negative, Six. Between the smoke and the heat those fires are putting out, I can't get close enough to see anything.//  
  
"Any sign of the Fire department or the ADP?"  
  
//Negative, Six. If I didn't know any better, I'd think they'd taken the night off.//  
  
"Or more likely trying to put out some of the other fires we've started. Stay ready in case we --"  
  
//They're here!// yelled Fuko over the radio in a high-pitched, sing-song voice.  
  
"Black, stand by. All Green members -- open fire!"  
  
Just then, several of the gang members opened fire on the advancing Yakuza. A few fell, but the rest came charging, firing their own weapons from the hip and screaming at the top of their lungs. More of the defender's guns joined the gunfire, and more Yakuza fell.  
  
Until they ran into the line of claymores.  
  
Originally developed and used bu the US Army in the last half of the last century, claymores were anti-personal mines, designed to disrupt an enemy's charge. They were covered under the land mine ban treaty of 2010, but Skeeter Karns was never a signer, and with Doc's help, designed a version that could be useful against boomers. It was this modified design that exploded in the faces of the charging Sleeping Dragon's men.  
  
The attack died right then and there, as did most of the attackers. Chika felt bile rise in her throat as she saw Yakuza turned into unidentifiable lumps a bloody meat. "You fucking assholes," she hissed. "You bloody stupid assholes."  
  
A few, outside the blast range, managed to stumble back to the dubious safety of the warehouses. The sounds of screaming men in agony was almost lost in the sounds of explosions and other sounds of destruction. Chika watched in silence as one or two tried to crawl back to the warehouses.  
  
She felt a hand on her shoulder. "They made their choice," Suyuri said softly. "They chose honor over living."  
  
"A choice to die for some asinine ideals!" Chika snarled back. "For an old man who preys on other's people's weaknesses? Where is the honor in that?"  
  
"Skeeter is much the same way. He expects us to follow him in whatever he decides."  
  
"But Skeeter would NEVER accept us throwing our lives away like that!" She gestured to the carnage outside the window.  
  
"I never said Sato would be happy with what those men out there decided to do." replied the ex-mercenary. "Do you know why I joined up with Skeeter Karns?"  
  
"No."  
  
"I could have gone to work for GENOM, or MALCORP, or even Gulf and Bradley. But Skeeter talked to me one night and promised me something more valuable then money or power."  
  
"What was that?"  
  
"That I could do the jobs he wanted me to do and I could still look at myself in the mirror the next morning. That is a feeling that's better then the feel of money or the taste of power."  
  
Just then, the radio flared to life. //Galahad Six, this is Red One! We're at the edge of the warehouses and are ready to make a run for it. Do you copy?//  
  
"Affirmative, Red One," the dark-haired woman replied, all business again. "What is your status?"  
  
//Red Three is wounded and Galahad Blue has four dead, two wounded. Be advised that we are low on ammo and out of explosives. There are a large number of security guards and GENOM boomers running around here, and we're nearly had it.//  
  
"Understood. Get ready to move out in thirty seconds."  
  
//Right. Red One, Out.//  
  
"Black, this is Six," Chika said. "I want you to start a strafing run across the row of warehouses nearest to the office building on my mark. I don't want anything getting through but our people."  
  
//Understood Six.//  
  
"All units, this is Galahad Six. Galahad Red and Blue are about to join us. Look sharp and don't shoot at anything coming across the area between here and the warehouses unless you're one hundred percent sure of your targets. Galahad Black is about to make a strafing run against the nearest warehouses. We pull back as soon as Red and Blue has joined us. Any questions?" Silence was the only answer. "Galahad Red and Black, stand by to move on my mark."  
  
"I'd better get back to the troops," said Suyuri.  
  
"Is the building ready to blow?"  
  
"Say the word, and it's rubble."  
  
Chika looked at her second in command. "Take charge of the remote detonator. As soon as the tin suits and our people with them have reach us, take them and half the troops and fall back to the factory across the street. As soon as you're in place, call me and I'll lead the other half out of here. Once the last of us have gotten clear, blow it. Don't wait for me to give the order."  
  
"Right. You're expecting trouble?"  
  
The raven-hair woman snorted. "With the way things have gone tonight, you actually have the nerve to ask me that?"  
  
Suyuri shrugged. "Just thought I checked, Boss."  
  
"Get going."  
  
"Right." Like a wraith, Suyuri slipped out the door, and was gone.  
  
Chika turned back towards the battle scene before her. "Galahad Red and Blue, this is Galahad Six, Go! Go! Go!" She waited until she saw figures break free of the burning storehouses before she snapped, "Galahad Black start your strafing run -- now!"  
  
 ************  
  
Gulf and Bradley - Japan Headquarters  
Sunday, December 23, 2035  
5:27am  
  
** The rescue team raced back towards the staircase. Both Red Four and his Saber counterpart were running down the corridor to the next intersection, stopping long enough to allow the rest of the team to catch up, then dashing on to the next intersection. The trio carrying the heavy pod were straining from the effort, but they hung on grimly. Trailing behind them were the leaders, who continued to watch all their backs.  
  
After three minutes of tense traveling, Red Four said. //We're around the corner from the stairwell.// From ahead of them he turned and waved back at the rear guard.  
  
"Right," said Knight One crisply. "Red Two, you guys awake?"  
  
//We're wide awake and nervous as Hell. Get your asses over here.//  
  
"Copy that. You all heard the man, let's move."  
  
"Nene," Sylia said crisply over the Saber's private channel. "Go with Red Four and join up with Linna."  
  
"Right!" Red Four and Nene slipped around the corner and out of sight.  
  
"Linna," Sylia said as the team started forward again. "Any problems?"  
  
"No. Are you guys all right?"  
  
"We're fine. I'm calling in the KnightWing right now. Stay alert. We're not out of the woods yet."  
  
"Understood."  
  
"Nene, any signs of Boomers?"  
  
"No," replied the redhead, "but this area of the building is making it difficult to get solid readings."  
  
"Stay with it." Sylia switched over to the KnightWing channel. "Mackie, we have the girl. Get here ASAP."  
  
//We're already on our way in,// Mackie replied. //Priss' been listening in on your conversations and convinced me to start in as soon as you had the girl. Our ETA is two minutes.//  
  
Sylia closed her eyes for a second. _Priss can't stand to be out of a fight_ , she thought. "Be careful. The building is crawling with boomers from both sides."  
  
//Understood. Priss is standing by on the weapon system, ready to kill something.//  
  
"Just make sure she knows what she's shooting at before she fires."  
  
Leon and the others reached the intersection and were met by a couple of Red Two's troopers, who grabbed handles on the pod and hurried the pod and it's cargo out of sight. With only them left in the corridor, both Sylia and Greg dashed for the intersection.  
  
//Don't worry about us,// Priss said, sounding more cheerful then she had a couple of hours ago. //Just don't hang around, Okay?//  
  
"We've no intension of wearing out our welcome. Just don't be late."  
  
//We won't. See you in a couple of minutes."  
  
Just then, Greg turned and fired a laser at something behind them. "We've got company!" he shouted.  
  
Sylia turned, dropped and fired in one smooth motion. One of two BU-12 boomers who had stepped into the corridor at the far end of the hall staggered as both her shots hit it. Before it or the other boomer could react, both leaders had flung themselves into the hallway leading to the stairwell. The rolled to their feet and ran for the staircase, some ten meters down the hall. As they ran, they heard the walls behind them get fractured as several hundred bullets impacted within a span of a couple of heartbeats.  
  
The pod was just going through the door, now carried by all six troopers. Red Two stood by the door, along with Linna and Nene. Sylia noted that Nene's pulse strikers were deployed and ready for action, and she shifted her stance slightly so she could cover the corridor.  
  
"Where are the others?" Greg asked as they dashed up.  
  
"I sent them up to secure the roof," replied Red Two. He waved towards the other Sabers. "I would have sent these two also, but they wanted to wait for their leader."  
  
Just then, the first two boomer came flying around the corner. Before they could fire, Nene fired her pulse strikers. The shot seized the boomers and the pair started convulsing as their internal systems were turned into junk. Before either one could fall, a burst from Red Two's cannon finished the job.  
  
"Yes!" Nene cried in triumph. Linna patted her in the shoulder.  
  
"Very nice," said Knight One. "But I don't think they were the last."  
  
"The rest of you go first." Red Two said. He held up the still smoking, multi-barreled gun that comprised his hardsuit's lower right arm. "I'll take rear guard now."  
  
"Right." Knight One went into the stairwell, followed by the Sabers and raced up the stairs, three at a time. The pod containing Janie was moving rapidly upwards, now a full floor above them. The sounds of multiple footsteps was loud in the confined area of the stairwell.  
  
Sylia turned to Nene and Linna. "Catch up with the capsule and see if you can give them a hand."  
  
"Right!" The two tore up the stairs after the troopers.  
  
"You have a well-trained team," said Greg over their private channel.  
  
"They're more then that. They're my friends."  
  
"Your father would be proud of you."  
  
"Maybe." Sylia looked at her counterpart. "But this isn't the time or place to discuss this. We've got an evacuation to lead."  
  
Knight One stepped aside and waved a hand. "Ladies first."  
  
With the assistance of the two Knight Sabers, the pod was being moved quickly up the stairs. The two leaders followed at a slightly slower pace, not wanting to crowd the rest of the team.  
  
The pod had gone up four stories, and the leaders three when the combat boomers started their attack  
  
//Here they come!// Red Two backed into the stairwell, firing a couple of bursts down the hallway at unseen targets as he did so. He pulled out a small gray block out of a belt pouch and slapped on the wall next to the hall door. "Fire in the hole!" he yelled.  
  
"How long?" Greg shouted back.  
  
"Thirty seconds!"  
  
"What did he do?" asked Linna.  
  
"You'll find out in about thirty seconds! Stop talking and start running!" Knight One took his own advice and increased his pace, White Saber right behind him. The troopers who had given up their spot on the pod grabbed it again and increased the pace.  
  
They managed to gain another floor before they heard the door below them crumple under a barrage of bullets. There was the sound a door being violently slammed open above them, and someone shouted over the common channel, //We've made it to the roof!//  
  
Sylia and Greg were now running up the stairs as fast as they could, with Red Two right behind them. Just then, something crashed through the door below them, and Sylia though she saw a flash of tan and brown several landings beneath her.  
  
"Five seconds!" Red Two shouted. They were still half a floor away from the door leading to the roof. All three took the last flight of stairs in two strides.  
  
"Clear the doorway!" Greg roared just as the demolitions pack Red Two had left went off. Sylia felt herself go airborne as the force of the explosion threw her and the others through the open door. She went limp just before she hit the roof, allowing herself to roll and tumble to take the force of impact out of the fall. She got to her feet quickly, her mind quickly placing everyone's location on the roof.  
  
Both Knight One and Red Two had landed close by, but not as smoothly as Sylia. The other Black Knights were running to aid their team members, while Nene and Linna ran towards Sylia. Leon and a couple of the other MALCORP troopers were carefully watching the smoke filled stairwell, just in case the boomers hadn't been destroyed in the explosion. The other black-clad troopers were standing by the capsule and it's critically injured cargo some distance away from the stairwell.  
  
"Are you all right?' asked Nene.  
  
"I'm fine," Sylia assured her. "Is the pod all right?"  
  
"No problems," Linna assured her.  
  
Red Two got up slowly, shaking his head. "I'm getting too old for this shit," he muttered.  
  
"We're all getting too old for this shit," Greg replied, sitting up. "Everyone all right?"  
  
"Now I know how a champaign cork feels," growled Red Two.  
  
"I'll take that as a 'yes'." He looked over at Sylia. "Are you okay?"  
  
"I'm fine."  
  
Knight One got up. "Defensive positions!" he said in a command voice. The MALCORP troopers and Black Knights started moving into a loose circle around the capsule. Leon stayed close to the stairwell.  
  
//We're coming in now!// said Mackie. //Our ETA is thirty seconds!//  
  
//Boomers on the way up!// Leon shouted over the common channel. He dove out of the way as a pair of BU-12s came charging out of the smoke-filled stairwell.  
  
The defenders were a bit slow to react, which gave the boomers a few precious seconds to analyze and start maneuvering. A quick burst from the boomers' machine guns sent both Red Three and Four twisting away to escape. Sparks from the return fire pitted the boomer's armor, but the boomers were still intact. One of the MALCORP troopers grunted and collapsed as shrapnel struck him in the thighs and knees.  
  
Until the Knight Sabers and Black Knights moved into action  
  
Linna went for one, while Sylia move in after the other. Even as she started in, Sylia saw Greg charge in after the same boomer she was going after, while Red Three somersaulted her way towards Linna's target. The other two Knights moved to place themselves between the battle and the capsule, while Nene hung back, her ECM system running full blast.  
  
Sylia tucked and rolled towards the boomer, as the combat machine tried to decide which one of the two targets attacking it was the most dangerous. It took in the size, distance, and possibilities into its calculations. After a few milliseconds of processing time, it decided that the Black Knight was the more dangerous of the two.  
  
It decided wrong.  
  
As the boomer fired at Greg, Sylia came out of her roll and fired both lasers as she dove forward. Both shots struck low, hitting the boomers in the legs. The boomer staggered, sending its fire wide of the black-and-gold hardsuit. Revising its calculations, the boomer abandoned its previous decision and turned towards the rapidly approaching White Saber.  
  
Greg fired his laser and gauss needler, then launched himself in a high arching attack. The laser slammed into the BU-12's shoulder, while the steel bolts struck deep into its exposed neck. The boomer fired a short burst, but Sylia had tucked herself in a tight roll and when she came out of it, she was inside the boomer's arc of fire. The twin laserswords snapped out and buried themselves in the boomer's middle. A heartbeat later, Greg's own vibrosword punched through the top of the boomers head and out through the neck. With a spray of yellow fluid, the boomer started dying.  
  
Sylia withdrew the laserswords, and sliced the boomer's machine gun in half. Pushing off the boomer's shoulder with his free hand, Greg finished his somersault over the dying cyberdroid, twisted in the air and landed a couple of meters away from the boomer. Sylia dove clear just as the boomer toppled over with a loud crash.  
  
The second boomer fell nearly as fast as the first, only in several more pieces. Both Linna and Red Three watched as several explosion wracked the dismember boomer as it fell apart.  
  
The sound of jet engines overhead made everyone on the roof look up. A dark shape dropped out of the dark sky towards them. As it got closer, several streams of tracers from the ground flash by the aircraft, but the craft was coming down too fast for the boomers to lock onto it. As illumination from the roof lights struck the descending craft, the dark sleek form of the KnightWing was identifiable.  
  
Fifty meters from the roof, the sound of the KnightWing's engines became more high pitched as Mackie applied more power to them. The aircraft slowed quickly and landed on the roof slightly harder then if it had been a normal landing, even as the wheels bounced on the roof's surface, the rear ramp was opening. As soon as the craft settled, and the ramp came down, a blur of blue dove out of the KnightWing onto the roof and rolled to her feet.  
  
"Hey, guys!" Priss said over the Saber's private channel, waving at the rest of her team. "Time to leave!"  
  
"I thought I told you to stay on the craft," Sylia said cooly.  
  
"You can yell at me later," the blue hardsuit replied, running towards them. "Mackie picked up several boomers climbing the side of this building, and he thinks we're going to be hip deep in them in a couple of minutes."  
  
The Pod was being hauled towards the KnightWing by four troopers and Red Three and Four. Red Two and Leon was covering them, while Knight One was carrying the wounded MALCORP trooper. There was no shouted commands, no need for orders to be issued.  
  
"Let's get out of here," Sylia said.  
  
They started for the KnightWing, but they had only managed to reach the base of the aircraft's ramp when the next wave of boomers appeared.  
  
A trio of dull black BU-55C leapt over the lip of the roof at the opposite end of the building and charged towards the invaders. Even as they ran towards the KnightWing, another pair of tan-and-brown BU-12's came blasting out of the smoke-filled stairwell.  
  
"Get the pod onboard!" Sylia shouted turning and firing her lasers at the 55C. Her beams slammed into an invisible wall just short of the lead boomer. "They've got force shields!"  
  
Two of the troopers, Leon, Priss, and three of the Black Knights also opened fire on both sets of boomers, lighting up the rooftop with lasers and muzzle flashes. Linna, Nene, and the two other uninjured troopers half carried, half dragged the pod up the ramp into the cargo bay, while Knight One paused only long enough to carry the injured trooper up the ramp before he returned and added his fire. Mackie, unable to target the Gulf and Bradley boomers, activated the aircraft's laser turret and sent a stream of lasers at the two BU-12s, who dodged them. The wind and noise from the engines almost drowned out the sounds of battle.  
  
The boomers themselves found themselves facing an unusual tactical situation - the BU-12s were GENOM's, while the 55Cs were the only survivors of Bradley's special boomer strike force. Both sets of Boomers analyzed the two different groups of opponents, weighed the factors according to their programming, and decided in several microseconds that the other group of boomers were the bigger threat.  
  
The 55Cs angled their charge so they were charging the 12s. The combat boomers responded by altering their fire to sweep across the 55C's arc and informed other GENOM boomers nearby of their situation. Several more GENOM boomers, including one of the anti-tank models, moved to assist the BU-12 on the roof.  
  
"Let's move!" Knight One shouted. "All unarmored personnel, get into the craft!" The MALCORP troopers broke of their firing and dashed onboard, Leon kneeling on the ramp and continued firing at any target he could see. Mackie stopped firing the laser turret and concentrating on getting ready to lift off.  
  
"Red Three and four, You're next!" The two Knights charged up the ramp and disappeared inside.  
  
Sylia said, "Priss, you're next!" over the Saber's channel. The singer, realizing that this wasn't the time for arguing, ran up the ramp, stopping only long enough to grab a surprised Leon and dragging him inside by his tacvest collar.  
  
"Let's move!" Knight One shouted, and the last three members of the team dashed up the ramp, Sylia making sure she was the last one up.  
  
Halfway up, Sylia shouted over her radio, "Mackie, take us out of here!"  
  
The KnightWing began to rise, and Sylia could feel the ramp rising, closing even as she was still running up it. She reached the flight deck just as the ramp finished closing. "Everyone!" Mackie was shouting, "Hang on tight!" The aircraft banked sharply to the right and suddenly accelerated, sending anything not firmly secured bouncing around the deck.  
  
"I'm receiving ground fire!" Mackie yelled.  
  
"I'm on it!" Nene called out from her position at the EW board. "I'm maxing out ECM and stealth systems."  
  
"Priss," said Sylia over her radio. "Get up front and help Mackie. Nene, stay on top of the ECM. Some of GENOM's boomers are armed with ground-to-air missiles, and I don't want to take any chances this late. Linna, see if you can help Leon with the wounded trooper."  
  
The Sabers moved off to their tasks. Knight One looked at his Saber counterpart. "I hope we've pulled this off," he said.  
  
"So do I," replied Sylia softly "So do I."  
  
 ************  
  
Outside Gulf and Bradley - Japan Headquarters  
Sunday, December 23, 2035  
5:30am  
  
** "What the hell is going on?" were the first words out of Ko's mouth when he was escorted into Daley's and Jeena's presence. His escort, one of the Black Knights, stepped back into the shadows and was gone.  
  
The battle around the Gulf and Bradley building was winding down, most of the combat that was left visible only a small explosions and sporadic laser and cannon fire, and most of that was inside the building itself. The area surrounding the building was a field of shattered concrete, twisted metal, and broken bodies, both boomer and human. A few GENOM combat boomers patrolled the wasteland, looking for any survivors, and preventing either escape or rescue for the surviving Gulf and Bradley forces. Once in a while, one or two Black Knight would come out of the surrounding darkness, fire their weapons at the patrolling boomers, then retreat before more then a single boomer could respond to the attack.  
  
Jeena barely gave the young Inspector a glance. "Do you have any idea when your people are going to get here?" she asked Daley.  
  
"Lars said he'd tried to be here in fifteen minutes," Daley replied.  
  
"You got through?" Ko asked him.  
  
The redheaded Inspector nodded grimly. "Jeena was kind enough to let me use her phone."  
  
"What's she doing here?"  
  
The one-armed woman allowed a smile to cross her face. "What would you say if I told you I had a bad case of insomnia?"  
  
Ko gave her a distrusting look, but before he could say anything, Daley said, "Looks like those shielded boomers didn't fare too well against Quincy's combat boomers."  
  
"With the amount of firepower those babies were putting out, Mount Fuji wouldn't have lasted long."  
  
"So what are we going to do?" Ko asked again, feeling like he was missing something.  
  
"Until Lars and his people show up, we can't do shit."  
  
Jeena focused her binoculars on the Gulf and Bradley building. "Looks like we have some action on the roof." An explosion and flash on the cover of the said building gave her words some credence.  
  
"What's going on up there?' Ko asked, trying to see something in the darkness.  
  
"You expect me to know?" Daley replied.  
  
"Now, now children," Jeena said, not looking away from her observations. "It looks like the main event has moved to the roof."  
  
For several more seconds, there was the sounds of battle, then it stopped as suddenly as it had started. After several seconds, an aircraft dropped out of the darkness above the roof and disappeared from the trio's view, apparently landing on one of the helicopter pads located on the roof. They could hear the engines though, a low scream that almost lost in the background.  
  
"What the hell is that?" Ko asked.  
  
"Looks like the KnightWing," Daley said.  
  
"The Knight Sabers are involved in this?" asked the younger man.  
  
"Of course they're involved," said Jeena easily. "MALCORP hired them as 'native guides' and extra support for this mission."  
  
"What the hell is going on?" Ko demanded. "How many laws are being violated --"  
  
"Ko," said Daley mildly. "Shut up for the time being and I'll explain everything later. I believe Jeena when she told me that this is a rescue mission, and Gulf and Bradley are responsible for most of the mayhem that's occurred in the last three days." Daley gave his temporary partner a stern look. "I will explain everything later."  
  
"All Knights," said Jeena into her radio, ignoring the disagreement between the two ADP officers. "This is the One Armed Bandit. "We've got action on the G and B rooftop. Does anyone have a sight line on what's going on up there?"  
  
"Something's moving near the entrance of the building," Ko said, his need to find out what was going on less pressing then what was happening around them.  
  
Three humanoid shapes separated themselves from the darkness dashed across a short expanse of rubble-strewn street, and reached the base of the G and B building. Once they reached the base, they started to climb the side of the building. They swarmed up the side of the building like ants, reaching the roof quicker then any human could have. They climbed over the wall surrounding the rooftop, and in a couple of heartbeats, a intense firefight started.  
  
"It's our rescue team on the roof," said Jeena to the ADP officers. "They're under attack from both GENOM and Gulf and Bradley boomers."  
  
"Isn't there anything you can do?" asked Daley.  
  
"The Knights' hardsuits are good, but they're not good enough to take on AT boomers and their firepower. We've been trying to draw them off, but they've been programmed to stick close to the building. We can't rush them, even with the Rattlesnakes in support."  
  
"So we wait?"  
  
"Only thing we can do. By the time we could move in to help them, the fight will be over, one way or another. The team has more then enough firepower to take on most boomers." Daley thought he heard her say under her breath, "I hope," but he didn't have time to ask her before the whine of the KnightWing's engines picking up speed became louder. Several small explosions on the roof added somewhat to the noise level, then a black shape shot into the air. Several of the boomers on the ground, turned towards the ascending craft and opened fire, sending tracers and missiles after it.  
  
"Rattlesnakes Two and Three!" Jeena snapped into her radio. "I need a strafing run against the boomers on the ground, Now!"  
  
The KnightWing stopped climbing and banked hard to the right, the engines becoming even more high pitched as the pilot accelerated. The boomers shifted fire, trying to anticipate their target's actions, but the craft darted right, then left. There was now half a dozen boomers firing at the escaping craft, the streams of machine gun firing just missing the aircraft, while the missiles, evidently affected by strong ECM, twisted and randomly went off in different directions. Several slammed into nearby buildings, adding to the surrounding damage. The three spectators had to duck as a missile slammed into the far side of building they was standing next to. More smoke rase into the air from the new fires and the old ones.  
  
Two more aircraft came out of the darkness and fired several salvos into the boomers on the ground. The land erupted as torrents of fire, concrete, and others fragments added another layer of destruction to the already battle scarred terrain. Several of the boomers were staggered, and a couple were even destroyed. The Rattlesnakes held formation long enough to shoot across through the billowing smoke before peeling off and out of sight behind some buildings.  
  
Jeena was listening to her radio. As she listen, a grin broke on his face. Like a striking cobra, she reached out and grabbed Ko. Before he could protest, she'd spun him around, grabbed him by the front of his shirt, pulled him close and kissed him. After a few seconds of struggling, Ko finally gave in.  
  
"Good news, I hope?" asked Daley blandly, but his expression was one of amusement.  
  
Jeena released Ko, who stumbled back with a stunned looked on his face. "You might say that," she said, her grin even larger. "The Knights rescued Janie and got away clean. The mission is over."  
  
"You're pulling out?" Daley asked.  
  
"Yep. I suspect that GENOM will be doing the same, as soon as they figure it out. They don't want to get out there's combat boomers in the city, so they'll clear out as soon as your people show up."  
  
"That's a comfort."  
  
The faint sounds of sirens could be heard in the lightening dawn. Jeena glanced in the direction. "That sounds like our cue to scatter. Daley, call me in about a week and we can discuss everything over a beer or two -- you're buying." She turned to look at Ko, her smile feral. "You on the other hand...." She pulled out a business card and handed it to him. "You have three days to call me," she said, stroking Ko's cheek. "If you don't, I'll come looking for you...." She chuckled deeply at Ko expression. "Relax, I don't bite...much." All Ko could mange was something like a strangled moan. Still smiling, Jeena climbed into the van and drove off.  
  
Seeing Ko's slightly stunned, Daley leaned in. "Are you married?" he asked softly.  
  
"N-No," the young man managed to get out.  
  
"Engaged?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Then a word of advice. Do not wait three days to call her. The sooner you call her, the sooner it will be over."  
  
"Er...."  
  
"Trust me on this. I've known her for years, and when she takes an interest in someone, she doesn't relent until she's satisfied."  
  
"Um...."  
  
The sirens were getting closer now. Daley slapped Ko on the back. "Snap out of it!' he said loudly, startling the younger man. "We have a mess to clean up. So let's get back to reality."  
  
"Right," Ko replied weakly.  
  
"See if you can contact Lars now. He should be close enough."  
  
"Right!" This time, the voice was stronger, more assertive. Daley steeped away as Ko called Lars and started directing the incoming ADP force into position.  
  
The battlezone was a mass of wreckage, bodies, fire and smoke. _It looks like the only winners tonight were death and devastation,_ Daley thought. On a sudden impulse, he turned to look in the slowly fading night sky where the KnightWing had disappeared. _Well, maybe not the only winners....  
  
_ ************  
**


	43. Chapter 43

===================================================================== ======  
  
 **Chapter 43  
  
Gulf and Bradley Biomechanical Research Institute  
Sunday, December 23, 2035  
5:37am  
  
** By the time Skeeter and the others got back to the lobby, the number of dead boomers scattered across the entrance hall had dramatically increased, as had the number of dead and wounded defenders. The armored car that had been stationed outside the lobby was a morass of flames, hot metal, and thick black smoke, some of which was leaking into the lobby, adding a extra haze to what was already there.  
  
"Status?" snapped Skeeter as he approached the makeshift barricade. The other squads darted past him and joined the thin defenses. The two Black Knights that had gone down with the giant into the sublevels stayed behind Skeeter, Mclaren squarely between them. The prisoner looking tired and scared, which was ignored by his captors.  
  
"They've hit us twice in the last five minutes," said the leader of the lobby defense, a diminutive woman by the unlikely name of Paco. "The first time, they tried dropping down the elevator shafts, but after we blew two of them, they stopped. Must have a directive to avoid unnecessary damage to the building. The second time, they smashed the windows above, dropped out of them and tried hitting us from both sides of the lobby. We've must have blown away maybe ten or fifteen of the mechanized mannequins. We've got three dead, two more wounded, but those two can still shoot. The armored car is history, but the crew managed to get out before it blew. The tin suit," she motioned towards White Two, who stood in the center of the circular rampart, "Has been a big help, but I don't have any idea how much ammo he has left."  
  
"What's your ammo situation?"  
  
"Could be worse. We're low on grenades, and we've got three rounds left for the RPG. We could hold off one more attack with no problem, but I can't say after that."  
  
The giant nodded. "We're ready to get out of here."  
  
"Gori said you hit paydirt downstairs," Paco said. If it wasn't for the way she held the assault rifle, or the coldness in her eyes, she might have been mistaken for a teenager playing war games.  
  
"Gori has a big mouth," Skeeter replied, giving the youth acting as communications link a cold stare. Gori wilted under the glare.  
  
After several seconds, Skeeter activated his radio. "Gawain Six to Five. Doc, are you still breathing?"  
  
//Of course, heroic and perceptive warlord. We anticipate your demands with zealous suspense.//  
  
"We're getting ready to pull out. How many boomers can you see from your position?"  
  
Doc's voice switched to a more matter-of-fact tone. //We can see half a dozen. Looks like they're waiting for you to come out into the open so they can catch you in a cross fire.//  
  
"How many can you take out from your location?"  
  
//My people can take out three with no problem, but the others are inside the building, and none of us have clean shots at them.//  
  
"Which floor?"  
  
//One on the third, two others on the fourth. There could be more we can't see.//  
  
"Understood. Rattler Four, what's your status?"  
  
//Still have plenty of ammo and fuel. What do you need?//  
  
"I want you to take out the third and fourth floors of this building, then cover our withdrawal. Doc, I want the other armored car at the gate doing the same thing. We're coming out in two minutes. Rattler Four, I want you to start your attack in one minute, three-zero seconds. Continue for one-five seconds, then drop back and cover us."  
  
//Understood. I'm swinging into position now. I'll be ready.//  
  
//We shall organize a defending fusillading accorded for a potentate.//  
  
"Just do it Doc. Gawain Six out." Skeeter looked at Paco and Hosokoawa. "Get everyone ready to move out. The gunship's going to blast a couple of floors above in less then ninety seconds. Hopefully, that'll keep the boomers off us. Blow the rest of the elevators and stairwells in one minute. I don't want the boomers hitting us from the lobby. I want us to start moving out as soon as I give the word. Go!"  
  
The two gang members darted away, and the lobby became a scene of quick, but complete preparation. The dead were wrapped in sheets and readied for transport. The wounded were check for mobility and assigned a partner to make sure they stay with the group. Weapons were reloaded with fresh magazines, as were the grenade launchers and RPG launchers. Squad assignment were quickly hashed out and put into place.  
  
The Knights were also busy. While White One stood next to Mclaren, White Three cracked the building's database again and uploaded some files as a 'going away present.' White Two reloaded the Gatling gun attached to his armor, singing something in Russian in a low soft tenor. Skeeter stood in the middle of the preparations like an immobile rock in a stormy sea, with his eyes the only thing that moved.  
  
As ordered, a series of loud thumps echoed through the lobby, as the elevator and stairwells were turned into impassible shafts. A thick layer of dust drifted down from the ceiling,covering everything with a fine powder. A few of the gang members glanced up at the ceiling in concern as the building groaned slightly.  
  
"Boss," Hosokoawa said, "maybe we overdid it with the explosives."  
  
Paco shook her head. "Ain't such a thing as overkill when it comes to saving your hide."  
  
"We can discuss that later," Skeeter rumbled. "The gunship should be making his attack anytime now."  
  
As if on cue, Skeeter's radio came to life. //This is Rattler Four. I'm starting my attack run, now.//  
  
"Stand by to move out!" Skeeter bellowed. "Everyone hit the floor NOW!"  
  
Everyone did so, falling onto their stomachs, closing their eyes and covering their ears. For several seconds there was silence in the lobby. Then, from outside, a low wail could be heard, getting louder every second. There were a series of small explosions, then several thunderous explosions above them filled the air with thick dust and pressed the assault force into the floor.  
  
The air became alive with the dim sounds of cannons and machine gun fire, mixing with the ring of shattered glass and broken concrete, as the gunship turned the two floors into a mass of flaming ruins. A shower of glass and burning wreckage plummeted from above, turning the area just outside the lobby into a morass of destruction and havoc.  
  
Skeeter leapt to his feet as if he was a man half his size. "Let's go!" he bellowed and charged for the shatter doors. In ones and two, then as a wave, the troops followed him.  
  
Glass was still falling when the assault force swarmed out of the building. The heat from the fires still burning on the floors above them was oppressive, the fire giving off enough light to illuminate the compound with as hellish glow reminiscent of a nightmare. One of the gang members stopped long enough to drop a thermite grenade into the cripple armored car. The muffled explosion was lost in the general confusion, but there wouldn't be a lot left for the Police or Gulf and Bradley to work with.  
  
They darted around several still smoldering piles of jetsam, a few of the gang members turning and covering their fellow warriors until all had passed them, then running after the group while others covered for them. Skeeter, the Knights and Mclaren remained close to the center of the group, the core of the temporary gestalt. Mclaren, still wearing his bathrobe and pajamas, was carried along by White Two and Three like a sack of rice. White One took point, while Skeeter stayed behind Mclaren and his keepers, directing the retreat with short sharp orders and strong gestures. Above them, the Rattlesnake hung in the air like an airborne shark  
waiting for its next meal.  
  
The force was close to the wall when a bulky shape pulled to a stop outside one of the breeches. A figure leapt out of the vehicle and dashed towards Skeeter's command group. Doc looked excited as he shouted, "I counsel that we vacate this locality instantly! Both the constabulary and the fire service are on their way, and I don't presume we can illuminate our proximity to this predicament with any conviction!"  
  
"How long!" Skeeter bellowed.  
  
"No more then five minutes!"  
  
"Which direction are they coming from?"  
  
"North and West!"  
  
Skeeter stopped and changed channels on the radio. "All Gawain units!" He said. "This is Gawain Six! Execute Evac Plans Sierra and Echo! I repeat, Execute Evac Plans Sierra and Echo! First rendezvous point, twenty minutes!" He looked at Doc. "We found a VIP," he said, pointing at Mclaren. "Take him and the Knights out of here on the car, Evac Plan Sierra. I'll hook out with you in about thirty minutes. If I'm not there in forty, head back to the staging area and I'll join up with you there."  
  
Doc smiled. "I conclude we've managed to rankle Gulf and Bradley this daybreak."  
  
A couple of small explosions sent fireballs out of the burning building and into the slowly arriving dawn. Skeeter turned to look at the fire that was now beginning to spread upwards in the building, his expression unreadable. "'Rankle' is not the word I would use, Doc," He said. "'Put on notice', is more like what this is. And it's about time." He looked at Doc again."Let's get going."  
  
 ************  
  
ARNPTSE Storage Compound  
Sunday, December 23, 2035  
5:39am  
  
  
** The strafing run by Galahad Black was the turning point in the battle of the storage compound. Both the Yakuza and Boomers forces had been shredded by the gunship's firepower, allowing the Black Knight team and the attached demolition squad to reach the office building without incident.  
  
"Suyuri!" Chika barked into her radio. "Get going!"  
  
//Right.//  
  
"Fuko!"  
  
The woman with the Mohawk stuck her head into the room. "Yeah?"  
  
"We ready to move out?"  
  
"Just say the word boss, and we beat feet. Saki's got all the wounded with him, so we can move fast."  
  
The strike leader glanced out a window and saw Suyuri's people flying down the stairs of the building entrance. Two of the Black Knights were supporting the third member of their team. Several of the Gang members were also assisting wounded comrades out of the building and towards the abandoned factory across the street. One of the armored cars stopped long enough to load a couple of the more seriously injured onto it before it roared past the building and out into the street. As the gang members ran for safety, Chika could hear the fire from the others still left in the building pick up to cover the withdrawal.  
  
 _Time to leave_ , Chika thought. "Let's get downstairs," she told Fuko as she ran past the woman.  
  
"Hokay, boss."  
  
The took the steps two at a time, their boot soles slapping the concrete a counterpoint to the roar of automatic weapons that got louder as they got closer. Chika slammed the stairwell's door open and dashed out into the small lobby.  
  
Mongo was there, looking pleased with himself as he watched the area outside the entrance. He glanced in Chika's direction and smiled at her. "Hey ho chief," he said.  
  
"How much of the bank did you get out?" Chika asked him.  
  
Mongo looked offended. "All of it, of course. What did you expect?"  
  
"No funny business?"  
  
"None whatsoever. It wasn't pretty, but we cleaned the room out with two minutes to spare. Ramon, Preacher and me got all over there in one trip."  
  
"Who's guarding it?"  
  
"Preacher is."  
  
Chika nodded. Preacher was an odd combination of Bible-spouting scholar and expert marksmen that served as the gang's chaplain, and thus was trusted with things of value. "Any idea how much?"  
  
"Twenty, maybe thirty million Yen." Mango shrugged. "We didn't have much of a chance to count it."  
  
The radio cracked to life. //Suyuri here. We're across and ready to cover you.//  
  
"Right." Chika opened another channel. "All right, Galahad! Time to get the Hell out of here! We've got thirty seconds to clear the building before we become part of it! Galahad Black, cover us! Go! Go! Go!"  
  
She took her own advice and charged out the doors, Mongo and Fuko following close behind. She stopped at the bottom of the stairs and waved the others on. Even as the pair tore past her, others were charging out the doors and down the stairs. As their appeared, fire from the factory streaked over their heads and towards the smoke and flame beset warehouses. The second armored car thundered past her, it's heavy machine gun spitting a stream of bullets in the opposite direction.  
  
Ramon came racing out of the doors and leapt down the stairs. "I'm last man!" he shouted as he raced past Chika.  
  
Chika took off after him, her boots crunching in the broken concrete. She managed to reach the street when she heard Suyuri shout over the radio, //Fire in the hole!//  
  
A car was less the three meters away and she threw herself towards it she was dropping into its shadow when twenty kilograms of C-9 detonated.  
  
A sheet of flame twice the height of the building shot into the not so dark sky, expanding into a fireball as the building disintegrated. The shockwave destroyed almost all the building's internal supports, flattened fences and walls at twenty meters, and shattered windows at ten times that distance.  
  
Fortunately, Chika was fifty meters from the blast. She felt the car rock and the car's safety glass pelt her back, then she struck the sidewalk next to the car. She laid there, stunned by the explosion and shockwave. After several seconds, the car stopped rocking, but Chika's ears were still ringing.  
  
She felt a hand touch her shoulder and she looked up. Ramon, looking like a specter in the smoke and dust looked down at her. "You all right?" he mouthed, his voice faint in her still ringing ears.  
  
Chika nodded and Ramon help her stand up. "Where is everyone?" she shouted, trying to hear her own words. Her legs felt wobbly, and her vison was somewhat blurry. She took a step, only to have her legs buckle. Ramon grabbed her by the arm before she fell.  
  
"You need help." Ramon waved Mongo and Fuko over and they half carried, half-dragged Chika into the factory. The rest of her unit was there, most trying to shake off the effects ofthe dash to safety and the explosion. The trio deposited Chika into a empty chair, then Mongo went looking for the medic while Ramon and Fuko stayed with their leader.  
  
Suyuri came running up. "How is she?" he snapped. To Chika, his voice sounded louder then the others had.  
  
"She's a bit woozy," Fuko replied, her voice also sounding louder. "She only had a car between her and the explosion."  
  
"We're moving out in three minutes," said Suyuri. "If she isn't able to take command, stick her into one of the cars. We're using evac plan November."  
  
"Any word on the police?"  
  
"They're on their way, and I don't want to be sitting here when they do show up. So let Bones look her over, and if she says Chika's out of it, cram her into a car and go!"  
  
"I'm all right!" Chika snapped. "I just had my bell rung."  
  
"Do you want to take back command?" asked Suyuri.  
  
"You're doing everything I would have. It's your show."  
  
"Right." the ex-mercenary grinned. "It was good dealing out some of the shit we've been taking over the last couple of years."  
  
"Celebrate later," Chika warned. "We've got to get out of here first."  
  
"We will," Suyuri replied. He looked at Ramon and Fuko. "Get her into a car and get her out of here." he turned and walked away, shouting commands and making sure everyone had their orders.  
  
Mongo showed up, trailed by a gaunt little woman with almost no hair and a beaked nose who served as the unit's medic. After a minute's examination, the medic said, "You have a mild concussion. Nothing serious, but you'd better take it easy for the next couple of days."  
  
With that as the final word, Chika was lead over to an armored car and buckled into an extra seat. The hatch was closed and the car's engine roared to life. With a cloud of smoke the car raced out of the factory and into an alley. Three minutes after the car left, the factory was deserted again, the only sounds that of approaching sirens of the fire and police departments.  
  
 ************  
  
Above MegaTokyo  
Sunday, December 23, 2035  
5:40am  
  
** As it was before, the cargo compartment of the KnightWing was crowded with people and equipment. Sylia had reclaimed her position in the doorway leading to the cockpit and watched the others in the compartment. The pod in the center of the compartment held the injured VanDell girl. From where she was standing, Sylia couldn't see into the small clear portal, but the blinking lights seemed to say that everything was all right. The wounded MALCORP trooper was lying on a bunk, his entire leg swathed in bandages. Leon and the other unarmored soldiers were slumped against the bulkheads relaxed in the knowledge they had completed the mission and survived. By unspoken agreement, the hardsuited members kept their visors down, even though there was no question of trust between the two groups. It was a matter of respect.  
  
As for the members of the Knight Sabers, Priss was back in the cockpit, helping Mackie. Nene was monitoring communications and ECM, while Linna was keeping an eye on the injured trooper.  
  
The Black Knights were also attending to their own responsibilities. Red Two was checking his suit's weapons systems. Red Three was checking medical supplies, while Red Four was helping Nene. Knight One was standing next to the pod, facing away from Sylia, staring down into the clear panel at the face beneath.  
  
Sylia walked over to him, carefully avoiding the others in the compartment. "Are you all right?" she asked over their private channel.  
  
Greg didn't turn to look at her. "She looks like a ghost," he said softly, stroking the pod with the fingertips of his right hand. "So pale and so weak."  
  
"We got her out."  
  
"Yes, and we couldn't have done it without your help. But I don't know if we did the right thing by saving her."  
  
"She's survived this long. A few more days and she'll be on the upswing."  
  
"You realize the Bradley twins are dead people walking, don't you?"  
  
"I know, and I won't try and persuade you otherwise. But remember why they did this. Don't allow your hate and anger at them blind you to reason."  
  
"I won't let my anger get the best of me on this," Greg replied. "But the Bradley twins will not escape the justice they deserve."  
  
"Let the police handle them."  
  
"No." The word was swift and firm. "I will not allow those two to escape behind their phalanx of lawyers and legal maneuvering. The terror they have caused Janie, the deaths they were behind, their plans of destruction, it will end with their deaths. Anything less will be a denial of justice. From now, until they are dead, they will never know a moment's peace, find a safe place, or the freedom from the same sort of terror they caused. I promise this."  
  
"Don't allow you hate to make you just like them."  
  
"I won't." He turned to look at her. "I want those two dead, but I'm not going to sacrifice everything to get them. I will do it methodically, with cold deliberation. And do you know something?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"No matter what happens to them, it will be only a fraction of what they deserve." Greg let his fingers linger on the surface of the pod. "But my immediate concern is Janie's safety. The pursuit of Carlton and Cora will wait -- for now."  
  
"And she's safe?"  
  
"Then it's their turn."  
  
Sylia nodded. "She's going to need excellent medical care. Are you sure this medical research subsidiary of yours is the best?"  
  
"The medical facilities there are as good as any hospital's, if not better. I have two specialists in blood disorders standing by, along with our own trauma specialist. As soon as she can be moved, she's going to the best private clinic in the United States. As much time and money as she needs, she'll get." He looked down at the pod. "That is the least she deserves."  
  
"We'll be there shortly."  
  
Greg nodded and continued to look at the pod. "Mackie," said Sylia over the Saber's channel. "What's our ETA to the landing site?"  
  
"Seven minutes," her brother replied.  
  
"Fine. Nene, any signs of pursuit?"  
  
"Nope. I think we got away clean."  
  
"Keep watching. There's too many people what want Janie and what she knows."  
  
"Right!"  
  
Sylia switched back to the private channel. "Our ETA is seven minutes."  
  
"I call the facility and tell them we're coming."  
  
"Good." Sylia went back to the doorway, but her eyes never left the armored figure and the pod it stood by.  
  
 ************  
  
Five Blocks South of Gulf and Bradley - Japan Headquarters  
Sunday, December 23, 2035  
5:43am  
  
** The car that pulled out of the underground garage was large, black and expensive. The windows were mirrored so no one could see inside, and if anyone was to run the licence plate, it would be traced to the personal transport of a senior GENOM vice-president. But the people inside the car weren't part of the GENOM senior management. Rather, they were the CEO of Gulf and Bradley - Japan and his sister.  
  
Cora was curled up in on corner of the rear seat, her expression a twisted intermingling of anger, anticipation, uncertainty, and arrogance. "What do we do now?" she grated out.  
  
"Relax," replied Carlton. He sat across the compartment from her, a large glass of alcohol in one hand. His composure was back, and he didn't now looked like a man running away from a fight. "We're going for another twelve or so blocks to where a specially prepared tractor-trailer is waiting for us. That will take us to our emergency shelter."  
  
"And how long will it be before we're found there?"  
  
Carlton sighed. "How can they? The holding company that owns the building and the land has no connection with Gulf and Bradley. The loans for the land's purchase came from several different banks, and the impression that I taken great pains to spread is that it's a subsidiary of GENOM. The only place that has all the details is up here." he tapped his temple.  
  
"How do we get back at them?"  
  
"Patience, sister, patience. We must first discover what our assets are first. Even now, there's computer programs at work, funneling supplies and money to our use, though I don't know how much time we have before they're discovered."  
  
"Patience? I want to kill something!"  
  
"And you will have your chance. But it will take some time to secure ourselves from all the prying eyes that infest this city. When our enemies can't find us, they will assume we have left the city, and thus will not look for us here. Soon they we forget us. That is when we will strike."  
  
"I hope you are right."  
  
Carlton smiled. "I am right. And soon those who oppose us will find out that fact for themselves soon enough."  
  
 ************  
**


	44. Chapter 44

===================================================================== ======  
  
 **Chapter 44  
  
Kanseianpi Medical Research Corporation  
Sunday, December 23, 2035  
5:49am  
  
** There were a dozen people waiting for the KnightWing as it touched down on the rooftop landing pad. Even as Mackie shut down the engines, Sylia had opened the rear hatch. AS soon as the ramp touch the rooftop, a team of medical technicians dashed up it. The wounded trooper was immediately carry off the craft and placed on a gurney and wheeled inside. To make room for the medical techs to work, most of the passengers were quickly hustled off the aircraft and inside.  
  
Sylia and Greg stood off to one side as the pod was quickly loaded onto a dolly and pushed down the ramp and into the building. He turned to look at her. "Would you care to change out of your hardsuit? I can lend you a jumpsuit."  
  
"I think that would be a good idea."  
  
Greg was silent for a moment. "They're sending out some change of clothes for you and the others. If anyone asks, you're a member of the Black Knights."  
  
"Within five minutes, a woman wearing a dark grey jumpsuit came out, several jumpsuits and baseball caps settled in her arms. She handed them to Greg and went back inside. "This should be about your size," he said, handing Sylia a jumpsuit and baseball cap. "After we get changed, we can go inside and see how Janie's doing."  
  
"Won't I be noticeable in this?" asked Sylia.  
  
Greg shook his head. "There's enough people around here wearing the same outfit that you won't stand out. If you're with me, you'll be less noticeable, not more."  
  
"Give me the jumpsuits for the others," said Sylia. Greg did so, and Sylia took them up the ramp and inside. She returned five minutes later, wearing the jumpsuit and the baseball cap pulled low over her face.  
  
"Very nice," Greg said.  
  
"It'll do," Sylia replied.  
  
Greg waved a hand towards the door. "Red Two tells me they've got a changing room for the Knights. We've got coffee and tea inside for those who want it."  
  
"Can I get some for my people? I don't want to leave the KnightWing unguarded."  
  
"They can send someone in and pick up some, or we can send someone out with some. Your choice."  
  
"I think it would be best that we limit contact with the teams outside of their hardsuits."  
  
"All right. I'll send one of my people out with a couple of thermoses and cups for your people."  
  
"That should be acceptable."  
  
"Already done. Shall we go inside?"  
  
 ************  
  
** Ten minutes later, Greg was out of his hardsuit and both him and Sylia were walking down a sterile-looking corridor. There were a few people in the hallway, some dressed in similar jumpsuits, while others were dressed in the whites of medical personnel. Greg was right in that no one took notice of Sylia in the atmosphere of busyness.  
  
They reached an intersection, where a heavily armed MALCORP trooper stood guard. When Sylia and Greg approached, the trooper straightened and saluted. "Good morning Sir," he said.  
  
"Where did they take Janie VanDell?" Greg asked.  
  
"Operation room three, Sir." The security man pointed to the corridor to his left. "Down there, and your second right will take you to an observation area overlooking the room."  
  
"Thank you."  
  
They soon found themselves in a circular room, with the center of the room occupied by a large steel-and-glass dome that allowed the people in the room to watch the activities of the people in the operation room below. A few people were standing around watching.  
  
Both Greg and Sylia walked over to the dome and looked down. There were a dozen people in the room below, all clustered around a operating table. On the table, the thin form of Janie VanDell laid, an oxygen mask over her face, her hair tucked inside a surgical cap, and a sheet covering her to her shoulders. At that moment, one of the masked medical people was injecting something into Janie's arm.  
  
"Marcus!" Greg called out to a large man with skin the color of old leather, dressed in a gray jumpsuit who was standing on the other side of the dome. "What's the latest?"  
  
"We don't know," Marcus replied, and something told Sylia that this man was Red Two. "When I asked Doctor Mayer for an update, he told me, and I quote, 'Go away and leave us alone so we can fix what's broken.' end quote. He's taking this one personally."  
  
"I see." Greg walked over to a intercom built into the dome and punched a button. "Doctor Mayer?" he asked in a voice that demanded attention.  
  
One of the surgically dressed figures looked up at him, and even from this distance, Sylia could see the anger in his eyes. He stalked over to another intercom, this one built into the wall. "I'm busy," a voice snapped from the intercom.  
  
"I know you're busy," replied Greg cooly. "I want to know what Janie's current condition is."  
  
"She's still alive," Meyers replied testily. "Now, why don't you leave me alone and let me get back to it?"  
  
"Doctor, she is the entire reason we are here. If she dies, then our mission is a failure."  
  
"I know that!"  
  
"Then can you tell me your medical opinion of her condition."  
  
Meyer sighed. "Between the loss of blood, malnutrition, the number of drugs in her system, and some of the worse physical torture I have ever had the misfortune of ever seeing, she's lucky she's still breathing. Did you kill the slime who did this to her?"  
  
"We're not sure."  
  
"Then why don't you go and make sure and leave us alone!" With that, Meyer snapped the intercom off and stalked back to the table.  
  
Greg looked at Marcus. "Keep an eye on things, and let me know if something happens."  
  
"Right."  
  
Greg touched Sylia on the arm. "I need to talk to you," he said in s soft voice. "But not here." He led her out of the observation room and down the hall to an empty office and said, "Please have a seat."  
  
Sylia chose a chair, while Greg declined the chair behind the desk and instead opted for a couch. "I think it's time to talk."  
  
"About what?" Sylia asked, taking the baseball cap off so she could look at him.  
  
Greg leaned back. "We never did agree to your fee for this operation."  
  
"I thought we agree on that already."  
  
"That was for finding Janie. That didn't including rescuing her."  
  
Sylia leaned forward. "All right. What do you think is fair?"  
  
Greg didn't bat an eyelash. "One hundred million dollars."  
  
There was silence in the office for a moment. _What is he doing_? Sylia asked herself. "A bit excessive, isn't it?"  
  
"Not really. I would pay twice as much to get Janie back."  
  
"I think I can agree to one hundred million."  
  
Greg slapped his thigh. "Good. Meet me for dinner tomorrow night and we'll hash out the details then."  
  
"Dinner?" Sylia asked cooly.  
  
"Dinner," confirmed Greg. "I refuse to discuss business dressed like this, at this time of the morning, on an empty stomach with very little sleep. You should feel the same way." Greg's eyes were half closed, making it hard to tell exactly what he was thinking.  
  
"I suppose I can see my way to have dinner with you," Sylia replied.  
  
"Fine. Dastari's Restaurant, say seven thirty?"  
  
"Make it Eight."  
  
"Fine. Do you want to stay here and wait for a progress report on Janie, or go home?"  
  
"I think I should go." Sylia stood, Greg half a heartbeat behind her. "It's going to dawn in a very short while. I should get my people home before then."  
  
"Yes. I'll escort you back to the landing pad."  
  
"There's no need. I can find my own way back."  
  
Greg gave her a tired smile. "Oh, no you don't. You're not getting rid of me that easily. My mother taught me to be a gentleman. If she ever heard that I didn't escort you to your vehicle, she'd never let me hear the end of it."  
  
"Does you mother know about the Black Knights?"  
  
The leader of the Black Knights laughed. "Does Mother know about the Black Knights? Who do you think led the Knight's hardsuit design team for me?" He went to the office door and opened it. "Let's go, My Lady. Your chariot awaits."  
  
 ************  
  
GENOM Tower  
Sunday, December 23, 2035  
6:07am  
  
** Quincy didn't turn when he heard the door to his office open. "Yes?" he said.  
  
Madigan stood in the doorway, a folder on her hand. "The latest reports on the night's incidents."  
  
It was then the Chairman turned from the window to look at her. "Have you read the reports?"  
  
"Yes Sir. We expected to revise the conclusions as we receive more data."  
  
"I understand. I am looking for a preliminary report at this time. I will expect the final report in two days. Come in and summerize the situation as it stands right now, if you please."  
  
The special assistant walked into the room and stood by the desk. "Over the last seven hours, a total of six Gulf and Bradley business were attacked last night, including -"  
  
"Six? I only order five attacks."  
  
"I was about to explain that sir."  
  
"Indeed?" Quincy waved his hand toward a chair. "Sit and explain."  
  
"Yes, sir." Madigan sat. "The one Gulf and Bradley subsidiary that was not on the list you approved was the Gulf and Bradley Biomechanical Research Institute."  
  
"Someone attacked it?"  
  
"Yes Sir. A mix of armed intruders, at least one team of Black Knights, and an attack helicopter. According to the reports we have, the building was heavily damaged."  
  
The Chairman nodded. "MALCORP did not waste any time, did they?"  
  
"No sir, they did not."  
  
Quincy walked over to his desk and sat down. "What other targets did MALCORP attack?"  
  
"To the best of our knowledge, they also attacked two other targets, both of them were on the list. One was the ARNPTSE Storage Compound, where they clashed with our own attack force and an unusually large guard force. The other was --"  
  
"Gulf and Bradley - Japan headquarters building," finished Quincy.  
  
"Yes Sir."  
  
"A logical conclusion. I take it that Janie VanDell was not recovered by our forces?"  
  
"She was not."  
  
"And the Bradley Twins?"  
  
"There has been no sign of them."  
  
Quincy sighed. "So it is very possible that they escaped?"  
  
"Yes sir. I'm sorry."  
  
"Don't be. Those two are displaying a cunning I did not think they had. You will, of course, activate a hunter team with orders to locate and eliminate the twins."  
  
"Yes sir. Do you wish to activate another hunter team to retrieve the VanDell girl?"  
  
The Chairman thought for a moment. "No," he said finally. "Mr. Mallory has shown he is willing to go to extreme efforts to recover what he feels is his. No doubt any effort to take the girl from them would result in too much effort for too little return. We will allow Mr. Mallory his victory."  
  
"Yes sir."  
  
"Back to the report. The results of the attacks?"  
  
"Both the ARNPTSE Storage Compound and Novastar car plant are complete losses, which means a minimum of a year to rebuild and restructure their manufacturing plans. Their headquarters building is heavily damaged, as is the Biomechanical Research Institute. We predict a minimum of two months before they will be back at one hundred percent. The other targets are not as seriously damaged, but they will be out of operation for several weeks."  
  
Quincy leaned back in his chair, steepled his fingertips and looked at Madigan. "What are the effects on Gulf and Bradley's overall profitability?"  
  
Madigan glanced down at the report in her lap. "The preliminary reports indicate that Gulf and Bradley -- Japan lost thirty percent of their annual profits for the next twelve months, decreasing to fifteen percent for the twenty-four months after that and returning to current levels after that. We also project that the corporation will have to take a two hundred million dollar charge against their profits for the next two quarters to cover the repair, construction costs and lawsuits resulting from tonight's actions."  
  
"Have a team investigate the possibility of GENOM purchasing one of more of Gulf and Bradley's subsidiaries. I want a list of the top five possibilities in two days."  
  
Madigan made a note. "Any consideration of location, field of business, or profitability?"  
  
"Not at this time."  
  
"Yes sir." She stood. "Anything else?"  
  
Quincy looked at her with half closed eyes. "Yes," he said softly. "Mr Mallory interests me. It appears that he is interested in an 'alliance' with Miss Stingray. Maybe it's time we took a closer look at him and his corporation."  
  
"Do you wish to take action against him?"  
  
The chairman shook his head. "Not unless we have to. It has been a long time since I had a challenge, and Mr. Mallory might be the one to supply it. For now, we wait and watch."  
  
"Yes sir."  
  
"Now," said Quincy firmly. "You will go and get six hours of sleep as you are in need of them. You will join me for lunch at one-thirty, where we will continue this discussion. Any questions?"  
  
"No sir."  
  
"You may leave. Good morning, Miss Madigan."  
  
"Good Morning, Sir."  
  
 ************  
  
Outside Gulf and Bradley - Japan Headquarters  
Sunday, December 23, 2035  
7:53am  
  
  
** The four vans slowed as the street became thick with smoke. In the front passenger seat, Martha Desalvo was having a hard time controlling her temper. If **I ever get my hands on those two** , she swore to herself, _I'll kill then with my bare hands!  
  
_ The reports that came in while her and her security teams were en route pictured a disaster of incredible magnitude. The Alpha Star Refinery -- out of action for at least two months. The Biomechanical Research Institute -- seriously damaged with valuable research lost. A storage complex -- loss of cargo, time, and the monetary losses running into the millions already. Other Bradley-owned businesses were in a state of havoc, as their management tried to sort out the thunderbolt of chaos that struck overnight. And the Headquarters building....  
  
A barricade blocked the van's progress. A heavily armed police trooper with the letters ADP on his flack jacket stepped over to the van. Desalvo rolled down her window, trying to ignore the stench of rubber, plastic, and other odors that hung in the air. "Yes?" she snapped.  
  
"I'm sorry Ma'am," said the trooper. "But I'm afraid the street's blocked."  
  
Desalvo pulled a small leather case from her pocket and opened it. She thrust it in the surprised policeman's face. "My name is Martha Desalvo, Executive Vice-president in charge of Internal Affairs for Gulf and Bradley. The men with me and myself have been ordered to secure the Gulf and Bradley-Japan Headquarters building from any non-authorized personnel. If you do not let us through, you Mayor is going to receive a personal call from Janson Bradley, CEO of  
Gulf and Bradley, who is already extremely angry at the total incompetence of the city's police and emergency services. If you hold us up any longer then is absolutely necessary, the city with be hit with a lawsuit so big that anything not belonging to GENOM directly will end up belong to us, including your useless hide! Do you understand?"  
  
"I need to contact my superiors," said the trooper as he stepped back.  
  
Desalvo rolled up the window again. The driver next to her looked solemn. "Do you think the twins managed to escape?" he asked.  
  
"Knowing those two, Hyde, they crept out at the first explosion." Desalvo looked over at him. "Tell the team leaders -- Cora and Carlton are considered SOS targets."  
  
George Hyde had worked with Desalvo for several years now and recognized the tone in her voice "What about Ozu?"  
  
"I want him alive and able to talk. Anything short of that is allowed."  
  
The man shrugged. "I don't think Mr. Bradley's going to like having his niece and nephew under a 'Shoot On Sight' order."  
  
"Well, he's going to like it less if those two go on trial for kidnaping, murder, terrorism, wilful destruction of property, plus any other charges the police can throw at them. And if it's any incentive, I know that MALCORP and GENOM will also be gunning for those two, so we won't be alone in out pursuit."  
  
"Is that wise? We're already going to take a hit for this fiasco, that last thing we need on top of that is a circus right here in Quincyland"  
  
"I want them dead. The sooner that happens the better."  
  
"Do you really think Quincy will go after them?"  
  
Desalvo looked at him. "The old bastard didn't get to the top and stay there by being stupid or leaving live enemies behind him."  
  
"I don't want to have to fight both the twins and GENOM."  
  
"Quincy won't actively interfere with our operations. I bet right now, he's sitting back, laughing at all of us."  
  
"No bet," grumbled Hyde. "What else do you want us to secure once we're inside?"  
  
"The computer system for one." Desalvo scowled. "Once we've secured the communications system, I want all subsidiaries reporting to this headquarters locked down and secured until we can clear them of any of the twin's influences."  
  
"Oh shit. Do you know how long that will take?"  
  
"Think of it as job security. Or would you rather be out, pounding the pavement?"  
  
"Did Mr. Bradley okay it?"  
  
"He did. Got the authorization as the temporary head of Gulf and Bradley - Japan."  
  
Hyde looked over at her. "The old man made you the head of this disaster?"  
  
"He did. He wants all of the twins's influence eliminated before he hands it off to someone else. That's my job." She looked over at him. "And as of right now, you're the vice-president."  
  
"Me? Why me?"  
  
"I trust you. I don't trust anyone working here yet."  
  
"Thanks for the vote of confidence," muttered Hyde. "We're going to need more security teams, though."  
  
"I talked to Mr. Bradley before we landed. We'll have another five teams here from Houston before the day is out, and another five teams from other parts of the world by this time tomorrow. You're in charge of all of them."  
  
"How's the old man taking it?"  
  
"How do you expect? He's frothing at the mouth. You're safer here right now then in Houston."  
  
The ADP trooper walked back over to the van. "You're cleared, Ma'am," he said briskly."Please stop by the headquarters trailer first and speak to Inspector Wong. He'll have information that you should know before you enter the building."  
  
"Thank you," snarled Desalvo. "Let's move it, Hyde."  
  
 ************  
**


	45. Chapter 45

===================================================================== ======  
  
 **Chapter 45  
  
Warehouse #41526584  
Yokohama District  
Monday, December 24, 2035  
3:14pm  
  
** The day and night had passed quietly in the warehouse, despite the warfare that had occurred in the early morning hours the day before. Most of the Knights and others that had been out in the field were still sleeping, while the support technicians and medical personnel continued their own responsibilities. Others monitored the emergency channels, piecing together the results of the last twelve hours.  
  
Marcus Jackson yawned as he walked towards the office. Six hours of sleep had worked wonders, but it still wasn't enough. He down half the contents of his coffee cup, then entered the office.  
  
He stopped short at the sight of his friend and boss sitting at the desk. "When did you show up?" he asked.  
  
Greg glanced at his watch. "About two hours ago."  
  
Marcus walked over to the couch and dropped into it. "I thought you'd be still be with Janie."  
  
"Mayer threaten to sedate me for the next several days if I didn't stop hovering. So I came here to look over the paperwork from last night."  
  
"How's Janie?"  
  
"Physically, she's stable. I don't know about her mental state."  
  
"Has she waken up?"  
  
Greg shook his head. "Meyer thinks that it's best that she doesn't wake up until she's home with her mother by her side."  
  
Marcus closed his eyes. "I really hate this job sometimes."  
  
"So do I."  
  
"I wish we'd had those two in our sights last night. We could have solved so many of our problems if we'd killed them."  
  
"Don't give up hope yet. My sources say that the twins have worn out their welcome with everyone. Besides ourselves, Gulf and Bradley have a Shoot-On-Sight order out for them, and Quincy has activated a hunter team. The police, the governments of Japan and the United States have a dragnet out for them, and Skeeter's put the word out on the street. If either one sticks their head up of whatever hole they've slithered down, they're going to lose it." Greg's expression was one of mild anger. "I don't care who nails their hide to the wall. As long as someone does it."  
  
"What are we going to do next?"  
  
"We're going to spend another day here, then head home."  
  
Marcus sighed. "I wanted to be home for Christmas."  
  
"So did I. But we need this day. Meyer thinks that Janie will be stable enough to be moved by then, the teams can get some need rest and repairs done, and I'll have some time to clear up some lose ends."  
  
"Does one of those lose ends involved your dinner date from last night?" asked Marcus with a smile.  
  
Greg returned his smile. "I wouldn't go that far, but I am having dinner with her tonight."  
  
"Twice in two days? Sounds serious."  
  
"It is."  
  
"Do we get a name to go along with the face?"  
  
Greg leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers. "Maybe later."  
  
Just then, there was a knock at the door. "Enter," Greg called out.  
  
Jeena and Leon walked into the office. The one-armed woman gave her boss a cheerful wave while Leon was more sated in his greeting. "How's Janie?' Jeena asked.  
  
"Still hanging in there. You two did good work last night."  
  
Jeena shrugged. "It was fun to be on the giving end of the battle then on the receiving end this time around."  
  
"Do you think Inspector Wong is going to give you any trouble over the attack?"  
  
Leon shook his head, "Daley's has too much on his plate as it stands right now. He trusts Jeena, so he's not going to cause waves in MALCORP's direction. Gulf and Bradley is going to take up most of his investigation time."  
  
"How did Skeeter's people do?"  
  
"He had a few casualties, lost an armored car at the Institute, but he seemed awfully pleased with himself when I talked to him."  
  
"Might have something to do with the large number of Yakuza bodies they found at the  
storage site," said Marcus.  
  
Leon snorted. "Figures." He looked at Greg. "Skeeter told me to tell you that he wants to explore the possibility of an alliance for some future projects."  
  
"We're not going to do anything illegal," said Marcus.  
  
"I don't think Mr. Karns is talking about getting us involved in anything illegal," replied Greg slowly, looking amused.  
  
"Skeeter prefers to keep his operations out of the public eye," said Leon, "but he might hit you up for a school or a clinic for his turf."  
  
"We might do better then that," said Greg, looking thoughtful. "Marcus, could you find Marla for me? I need her to put some plans into motion."  
  
"What sort of plans?' asked Marcus.  
  
"Ambitious plans. I think it's time we started expanding into Asia more then we've been doing."  
  
"Expanding? Here?"  
  
"Why not? With Gulf and Bradley-Japan in shambles, it would be the perfect time. We spin off our current holdings here with some new acquisitions in a corporation headed up by a senior vice-president, and a local board of directors. We pick some small companies and cast offs from other corps and build slowly."  
  
"Assuming Quincy allows you to do that."  
  
"It'll be years before the new corp would be anything but a mild annoyance, and Quincy doesn't both with small annoyances. Go get Marla."  
  
"Right."  
  
Greg waited until Marcus left the office before he looked at Leon. "What do you think of our operations here?"  
  
"I'm impressed. I can see why Jeena likes working for you."  
  
"Do you want to come onboard MALCORP full time? We pay well for experienced people like you."  
  
There was silence for several seconds. Leon shook his head. "I can't," he said. "No offence, but --"  
  
"You're not sure you can trust us in the long run," Greg finished. He shrugged. "I'm not offended. Jeena, you owe me twenty."  
  
Jeena sighed and took out her wallet, she handed Greg a US twenty dollar bill. "I thought he would have jumped at the chance," she said with a reluctant expression."  
  
Leon frowned. "I don't understand. You expected me to say no?"  
  
Greg place the bill into his pocket and smiled. "Leon," he said smoothly. "The offer was, and is, genuine, but you don't strike me as the type that would accept it right now. I can't say about down the road, but you are not the corporate type."  
  
"I don't know if I should be insulted or pleased."  
  
"In your case, take it as a complement."  
  
"I'm not enamored by the corporations I've had to deal with over the years."  
  
"I don't blame you. In fact, I understand exactly where you're coming from. This city brings out a certain edge of cynicism that you don't see elsewhere, and after the actions of the last two days, none of corporations who were involved improved our collective images any."  
  
"You were the only one who had a motive I could agree with."  
  
"True, but if you didn't like my motive, you would have walked away from MALCORP without a second thought. We had a common goal, getting Janie VanDell back from a pair of walking snakes, but that goal is over, so our paths with separate again."  
  
"You seemed like you already knew my answer before you asked the question."  
  
Greg shrugged again. "One of the reason why I'm successful is I can read a person's motives very quickly. You're a man of principles, and you stick to them. I respect people who have them and defend them. You're afraid that you'll have to sacrifice them for the sake of your job, good pay and benefits."  
  
"You make it sound like I'm too noble," said Leon.  
  
"There's nothing wrong with being too noble, as long as you keep it perspective. You can."  
  
"Nobility isn't going to get me paid."  
  
"No, but I know an outfit that can use the skills attitude you possess that can really use your skills."  
  
"Who?"  
  
"The ADP."  
  
"What?" shouted Leon. "I quit that outfit. They're not going to take me back!"  
  
"On the contrary, they will. You see, another talent you have is choosing people who will do what they can to help you. You didn't quit, you went undercover to try and stop a coprwar."  
  
"I what?"  
  
"It's true," Jeena said with a smirk. "You're listed as being on vacation. You saw there was a corpwar brewing, but you didn't have time to brief and place an undercover officer into the situation, so you decided to do it yourself. Daley went to bat for you and convinced the chief that you staged the blow-up in his office to establish your status and make you a probable target for recruitment. And you were recruited."  
  
"But how am I going to explain what happened?" Leon asked. "I don't have any evidence that would hold up in court."  
  
"It won't go as far as that," Greg replied. "Quincy doesn't want an investigation into this matter, just on general principles. Gulf and Bradley sure as hell doesn't want an investigation, because of the twins' actions with the Thor satellite. I don't want an investigation, because I don't want to expose Janie to any more trauma. Therefore, a word in the right ear, and there will be no investigation. You'll write up a report, it'll be filed, then forgotten. There will be an official explanation that no one will believe, and there will be conspiracy theories that'll somehow tie this all into a grand plan to take over the world for an invading race of aliens."  
  
"That almost makes sense," said Jeena.  
  
"What do I put into the report?" asked Leon.  
  
"The basic truth, just shade some of the details," replied Greg. "MALCORP came to retrieve something of value that Gulf and Bradley stole. Gulf and Bradley didn't want to give the item up, and there was some violence. You were hired as guide and local expert, but you weren't in on the planning sessions."  
  
"I suppose that will work."  
  
Jeena snorted. "According to Daley, that moron in the chief's chair will believe anything. Just don't make it too elaborate. It would only confuse him."  
  
Greg leaned forward. "We also picked up a gentleman who would be able to supply some of the answers to some of our questions. Do you remember A Doctor Richard Mclaren?"  
  
Leon nodded. "Yes. He was involved with the giant boomer project a couple of years back. But he's suppose to be in jail."  
  
"Not for the last two months. Carlton 'borrowed' him to work on the force shield project. We're not sure what we're going to do with him. Bradley forced him to work on the project, and he knows too much to simply let go."  
  
"How about putting him back into prison?" suggested Jeena.  
  
"How do we do that without rasing the alarm?"  
  
"I'll talk to Skeeter," said Leon. "He might know a way to smuggle Mclaren back into prison. But how do we keep him silent about this?"  
  
Greg smiled. "We let Mr. Karns talk to him. I think a few choice words from him with solve any possible problems with the good doctor's silence, at least long enough for MALCORP to get him transferred to another prison in the US." He leaned forward. "But let's go on to another subject. While you won't come to work for MALCORP full-time, could I temp you with a role as a consultant?"  
  
"What sort of consultant?" asked Leon.  
  
"MALCORP is looking to expand into the police market, especially in the area of Boomer control. We need people who have street experience who can work with our people in developing effective anti-boomer weapons. You would be perfect for the position."  
  
"What would I get out of it?"  
  
"Besides a nice paycheck?" Greg placed his elbows on the table and steepled his fingers. "How about enough of the new weapons you help develop to outfit the ADP at no charge to the department?"  
  
"Are you serious?"  
  
"Very. This farce of boomer rampages has gone on too long, and people have suffered because of it. I think it's time to make a stand."  
  
"Is that all you want from me?"  
  
Greg shook his head. "I also want to set up an independent corporation that would be owned by members of the ADP to invest and manage money from the members of the ADP, both active and retired. It would act as a source of income for those crippled in the line of duty, or for the children of widows and orphans. I will make sure MALCORP kicks in a large, one-time sum to get things started, but this company will be independent from MALCORP's control after that. I want both of you to be part of that."  
  
"How much would this 'one-time' sum be?"  
  
"How about a quarter of a billion US dollars?"  
  
Leon raised an eyebrow, but it wasn't enough to disguise his surprise. "Why the sudden outpouring of goodies?"  
  
"Because I can. Because I like helping people. Because it'll tweak Quincy's nose. Because I can write off the investment on my tax bill. Your choice."  
  
"You're making a real effort to sell me," said Leon.  
  
Marla walked in without knocking. Greg looked at her. "Do you have the list of businesses?" he asked.  
  
"Yes Sir."  
  
"What about the other item?"  
  
"The jeweler was a bit surprised at the request, but he agreed to the commission. It should be ready by six tonight."  
  
"Good. Let me see the list."  
  
Marla, looking rested and relaxed, pulled a sheet from a folder she was holding and walked over to the desk. She handed the paper to Greg. Greg scanned it and nodded.  
  
"What's that?" asked Leon.  
  
"A list of business for sale in the city. Most are too small for companies like MALCORP to bother with, but a few of these might be suitable for the basis of the new ADP company. Look at number eight on the list." He handed the paper to Leon.  
  
Leon scanned the list until his eyes hit the item Greg had mentioned.  
  
#8 - HOT LEGS NIGHTCLUB  
  
"It's for sale?" he asked in surprise.  
  
"The price is not outrageous," Greg replied. "And there's potential for steady growth" He now looked amused. "It would also allow a certain friend of yours to rely on a solid home base for her singing career."  
  
"She'll never go for it."  
  
"Your friend needs friends who can support her other job. Who better then someone who knows and appreciate both her jobs?"  
  
"She'll see it as an attempt to bribe her."  
  
"I get the feeling that she don't like handouts," said Greg with a smile.  
  
"Not her," said Jeena with the same smile.  
  
"Could I discuss it with her?" asked Leon.  
  
"If you like. I think we can have the basic corporate structure in place by the new year, and I suggest you move fast before people realize who you are."  
  
"I want to think about it."  
  
"That's fine. I could send you a list of reliable people who can run the day-to-day operations of the company, but I think the board of directors should all be ADP people. I can start the process right now, but it would be up to you and the other ADP officers to decide if and when to put this plan into operation."  
  
Leon looked over at Jeena. "What do you think about this?"  
  
Jeena smirked as she shrugged. "I say go for it. Who do you think suggested the idea to the boss in the first place?"  
  
"Couldn't this be considered a conflict of interest?"  
  
"Only if we invest in boomer technology, which may not be a bad idea."  
  
"Give me until the new year to think this over," said Leon.  
  
"Fair enough," replied Greg. "When you came to a decision either way, you can contact me through Jeena."  
  
Leon nodded. "You're not at all I'd expected a CEO of a mega-corporation to be like."  
  
"I was never one to conform to stereotypes. Which reminds me...." He looked at Jeena. "Have you paid him yet?"  
  
Jeena was still smiling. "Nope."  
  
"I think that's the last order of business before we part ways. Jeena?"  
  
The one-armed woman's smile got even broader as she reached into the pocket of her jumpsuit and extracted a large roll of cash. Instead of counting off some bills, she said to Leon, "Hold out your hand." When Leon did so, she dropped the entire roll onto his hand.  
  
Frowning, Leon flipped through the roll, noting the large denominations of the bills. He glanced at Greg. "That's a lot of cash," he said finally.  
  
The CEO looked relaxed. "I decided you deserved a bonus for your help."  
  
"I see." Leon looked at the roll. "I'm not sure if I should accept it."  
  
"Take it. You worked hard for it, and you definitely earned it. Without your help, I think we would have been still searching for Janie and we might have had even heavier causalities. This amount will square things between MALCORP and you."  
  
"Don't you dare think about refusing it," said Jeena with a dangerous gleam in her eye. "Because if you did, I would have to refuse my bonus, and if that happens, I will make you life miserable."  
  
Leon glanced at her. "You wouldn't."  
  
"You know me better then that, Rookie. I've already have plans for that money, and I'm not about to let your sense of honor ruin it for me."  
  
"I would have to turn this cash in as evidence."  
  
"No you don't." Jeena extracted another, smaller roll of cash and slapped it into Leon's other hand. "You give them this."  
  
Leon glanced at the new roll. Despite being smaller then the first roll, it was still a healthy amount. "I don't know if they'll accept this."  
  
"It's what will be officially listed in our expense reports," said Greg. "But if they never ask for it, I won't object if you kept it."  
  
Leon sighed and pocketed both rolls. "You two drive a hard bargain."  
  
"That's the way I've always worked," replied Greg, standing up and extending his hand to Leon. "It has been a pleasure working with you, Leon. If you ever want to come work for MALCORP, you will be welcomed. I hope you take me up on my proposals. I think we can both make a difference in this city."  
  
Leon took the offered hand. "You've given me some things to think about," he admitted.  
  
"Good. As I said, when you come to a decision, You can contact me through Jeena."  
  
Jeena linked her arm through Leon's. "Come on Rookie, we're going to have an early dinner, then some nightclubbing before you go back to the glamor of the ADP."  
  
"Anywhere in particular?" asked Leon.  
  
"Well, the Hot Legs nightclub should be jumping tonight. Who knows? Maybe your girlfriend will be there."  
  
"I doubt it."  
  
Jeena grinned. "This is Christmas, the season of miracles. At the very least, you'll have one night to enjoy without having to respond to a boomer rampage." She tugged on his arm. "Come on, Rookie, lets roll."  
  
 ************  
  
AD Police Headquarters  
Monday, December 24, 2035  
6:09pm  
  
** Alan leaned back in his chair and stretched. "Another day," he muttered, "another handful of Yen."  
  
"Hmm?" asked Nene. A long day of work on top of little sleep the night before was taking it's toll on her. Instead of going home, she had sacked out on a cot in the Sabers' ready room for six hours, checked the net for any sign of the Bradleys for most of Sunday, then caught six more hours of sleep. That morning, Mackie had driven her into work. She wondered if she'd stay awake long enough to make it home. And she promised Mackie that she'd join him and maybe the others at the Hot Legs for a celebration later tonight....  
  
Alan stood and leaned over the cubical wall. "Did your boyfriend keep you up THAT late?" he asked, amusement in his tone. "Or are you already turning into the nasty mean-spirited bosses we all hate and despise?"  
  
Nene glared at him. "It wasn't like that," she grumbled. "I was up half the weekend working on a detection program to supplement the ones we already have."  
  
"Oh? Any luck?"  
  
"Some," she replied stiffly. "Give me another week, and it'll be ready for a Beta test."  
  
"Want me to give you a hand with it?"  
  
She shrugged. "I suppose you can. How fast can you code?"  
  
Alan straightened and buffed his fingernails on his shirt. "I know a thing or two about coding." He smiled. "And since I have nothing resembling a social life, I can devote time to it."  
  
The low snarl in Nene's throat brought a smile to Alan's face. "Calm down, Boss," he said easily. "No need to go ballistic on me. It's Christmas Eve."  
  
"So?"  
  
"So don't pull a Scrooge act on me."  
  
"So what are you going to do for Christmas?" asked Nene.  
  
"Sleep in," replied Alan stretching.  
  
"You don't have family?"  
  
"They're all in the US. I'm working today and the day after Christmas, because we're so short-handed that I couldn't take any time off. I'll have to be satisfied with a long vid-call with the family. What about you?"  
  
"I-I'm not on speaking terms with my parents right now."  
  
"Oh? Why?"  
  
"They think I should be going to college, find a nice guy, marry and settle down."  
  
Alan smiled. "You don't strike me as the bookworm type."  
  
Nene made a face. "Keep it up, Corporal," she growled, "and you'll be working for the traffic division."  
  
Alan made a face. "Not that!" he said in mock seriousness, waving his hands. "Anything but that!"  
  
"Good."  
  
"So that means you'll have more time for your boyfriend."  
  
Nene rolled her eyes, then grinned mischievously at Alan. "I've got an idea," she said slowly.  
  
"What?"  
  
"You're not doing anything tonight, are you?"  
  
"Besides sleeping? No."  
  
"Good. I'm meeting Linna and another friend at a local bar tonight. You're coming along."  
  
"Me?"  
  
"Yes. I'm ordering you to come along and have a good time."  
  
Alan looked askance at her. "Huh?"  
  
"You told me you haven't had a night out in two years, right?"  
  
"Er...yes, but-"  
  
"And Linna is between boyfriends right now."  
  
"But --"  
  
"And my boyfriend is going to be there too. And I promised Linna to find someone for her tonight." _Linna, don't you dare find someone else before tonight!_ she thought. "Plus, Priss doesn't believe I actually have anyone working for me in this job, and I want to prove her wrong."  
  
Alan frowned. "Who's Priss?"  
  
"Priss, as in 'Priss and the Replicants.' You know, the music you were listening to the first time I met you?"  
  
Alan's eyes lit up. "You know Priss Asagiri? Wow."  
  
"She doesn't like drooling fan boys," replied Nene defensively. "Especially drooling fanboys that happen to be cops."  
  
Alan gave her a grin. "Don't worry, Boss. I won't embarrass you by acting like Leon,"  
  
"You'd better not!"  
  
"Besides, if she's resistant to 'Mister Macho,' what chance would a tech-weenie like me have?"  
  
"Just promise me you'll be on your best behavior."  
  
"I know Priss' reputation. I want my body parts in the same order they are now."  
  
"Do you know the Hot Legs nightclub?"  
  
Alan smiled. "Sure Boss. What time?"  
  
"Eight o'clock?"  
  
"Sounds fine by me. I shouldn't stay out too late, though."  
  
"Why?" Nene asked, puzzled.  
  
"I don't want to sleep in with a hangover."  
  
"Now who's being the Scrooge?" asked Nene tartly.  
  
Alan shrugged. "I hate hangovers. Besides, you shouldn't be out late yourself. You look tired, and I thought I heard snoring coming from that side of the wall a couple of times today."  
  
"I don't snore!"  
  
"Well, something was snoring over there, and -"  
  
"I don't snore!" Nene repeated, color coming into her cheeks.  
  
Alan again put his hands up. "See? You're already in denial. Another couple of weeks and you'll be just like the rest of the department heads."  
  
"That's not funny!"  
  
Alan became serious. "You'll have to forgive my sense of humor, Nene. It's a little rusty from not being used much the last couple of years. It's a thankless job we've been stuck with, and humor's about the only outlet we're going to get."  
  
"I know. Just try and tone it down, Okay?"  
  
Alan smiled. "Sure thing, Boss."  
  
"I wish I'd known beforehand that you weren't going to be able to spend Christmas with your family," said Nene. "I could have arranged emergency leave for you. I think you could have used it."  
  
"No need, boss. My family's been soldiers for the past five generations, so we're use to not having all the family together at holidays." He smiled. "Besides, there's no way I'd leave you alone with this mess."  
  
Nene smiled back. "Thanks."  
  
Alan glanced at his watch. "If you want to meet over at the nightclub at eight, then we better get moving. I want to take a shower and get changed."  
  
"Me too. I think it'll only take us ten minutes to put everything we can into place for the next couple of days."  
  
"That sounds good to me." Alan disappeared behind the cubical wall and for the next seven minutes there was nothing but the sounds of two set of fingers running over a couple of keyboards.  
  
 ************  
  
Dastari's Restaurant  
Monday, December 24, 2035  
7:53pm  
  
** The restaurant was surprisingly busy tonight as Sylia walked out of the elevator.  
  
The same Matra de' from yesterday walked over to her. "Good Evening, Miss Stingray," he said formally. "Mr. Mallory is awaiting your arrival. If you will please follow me?"  
  
As Sylia followed the smartly dressed head waiter, her mind drifted back over the last fourty hours. The KnightWing had managed to make it back to the Lady633 building before the last of the night had faded. Using the aircraft's engine mufflers at full, Mackie managed to guide the aircraft onto its landing pad, which quickly dropped into the tower and away from prying eyes. By the time they descended to the main hanger, the Sabers were out of their hardsuits and had secured everything away.  
  
For reasons of morale, Sylia had decreed that everyone get some sleep before they did anything else. Nene had begged off, citing that she had to check several things on the net, but Sylia had insisted that the ADP officer take a nap anyway, with Mackie promising to drive Nene in time for her shift on Monday morning. Reluctantly, Nene laid down on a cot and promptly fell asleep. The others followed suit, with the exception of Mackie.  
  
By the time the Sylia and the others had gotten several hours of needed sleep, Mackie had taken it upon himself to clean up the hardsuits, put them into storage, and make breakfast. As they ate, Mackie told them he'd made plans to take Nene to the Hot Legs nightclub after work on Monday, and would the others like to come along? Linna had said yes, Priss had to prodded into accepting, but Sylia declined, telling about the dinner with Greg. That caused a reaction.  
  
"I told you," Priss had muttered darkly. "He isn't going to stop until you're married to him, or he's dead."  
  
"It's a business dinner," Sylia had replied. "To arrange the details of the payment. Nothing more."  
  
"You'll be the one getting the business," Priss said gruffly.  
  
"I can take care of myself."  
  
"Are you sure, Sis?" Mackie asked, his concern that of a brother for a sister. "He might be obsessive about you."  
  
Sylia shook her head. "I can take care of myself," she repeated. "Greg Mallory is not going to kidnap me and carry me off, all right?"  
  
"I wouldn't put it past him," said Priss.  
  
"He is a honorable man."  
  
"Honor has nothing to do with his thoughts about you."  
  
Sylia shook her head. "If it will make you happy, I'll wear an emergency beacon, just in case, all right?"  
  
"Don't do anything rash," said Linna. That earned her a stare from the other three. She flinched. "What?" she said defensively.  
  
"Never mind," replied Sylia with a smile.  
  
The meeting broke up after that, and Sylia spent the rest of that day and the next going over paperwork and the hardsuits. Late in the afternoon, she got ready for the dinner.  
  
She decided for a less formal dress and appearance for the dinner, to stress the business aspect of the meeting. So, she chosen a cream color, knee length skirt and coat over a pale blue blouse, with white, low-heel shoes and purse. She had driven herself to the appointment and now was steeling herself for the meeting.  
  
Greg rose from his chair as the maitre de' and Sylia approached. The table he was sitting at was again was next to the window, though it was a different location. The anti-eavesdropping device was on the table, the little lights indicating it was on. Greg was dressed in a dark blue suit with a shirt and tie that was a slightly lighter shade of blue. He smiled at Sylia and motioned to the seat on the other side of the table. "Good evening."  
  
Sylia sat down and place her purse on the table. "I'm surprised that it's this busy tonight."  
  
Greg resumed his seat. "My fault. Most of these people are senior MALCORP management and department heads, getting together for dinner and talk." With a nod from Greg, the Maitre de' left them alone.  
  
"I didn't expect to walk into a party," Sylia said.  
  
"Not a party. I don't plan to give any speeches tonight, though I will have to move about later to press the flesh and pass the encouraging word. But that is later."  
  
"I wanted to get our business out of the way."  
  
Greg nodded. "Would you care to order first? The food is excellent."  
  
"I know." Sylia picked up the menu and scanned it. "How is Janie?"  
  
"She will survive, no thanks to Carlton and Cora. But it won't be easy or a short recovery. Doctor Meyer has decided to keep Janie sedated until she's home. But she has a chance, which is all I want for her now."  
  
"What were the final casualty figures?"  
  
For an instant, Greg looked weary. "We had four Knights injured, two of them seriously. Mr. Karns losses were five killed, seven wounded." He then gave Sylia a small smile. "But it seems that his unit that hit the storage uncovered a large Yakuza drug lab in the basement."  
  
Sylia looked up him. "A drug lab? How did that happened?"  
  
"I don't know. All I know is the entire storage facility was raise to the ground, including the office building with the lab in it. Mr. Karns takes a dim view on drug pushers, doesn't he?"  
  
"A very dim view," Sylia replied. She glanced down at the menu again. "Anything new on the Bradleys?"  
  
"No. They've gone to ground. My sources say that a Miss Martha Desalvo has been sent in to get a handle on things for Gulf and Bradley, and she wants the twins dead almost as bad as I do."  
  
"And GENOM?"  
  
"Quincy's looking for them, as expected."  
  
Sylia closed the menu. "I'm ready to order."  
  
"So am I." Greg raised his hand into the air, and, if by magic, a waiter appeared. After both of his customers had order, he vanished into the kitchen.  
  
"Do you want to discuss payment now?" Sylia asked.  
  
Greg leaned forward. "I think it would be a good idea. Where and when?"  
  
"It took them five minutes to hash out the details. After they had finished, Greg smiled. "You definitely did not pick that stuff up in a classroom."  
  
"I have plenty of experience," Sylia replied, still keeping her cool, business-like manner. "Anything else you wish to discuss?"  
  
When she saw the gleam in Greg's eye, she knew she had just made a mistake.  
  
"Several things," he replied blandly. "For a change of pace, let's get the personal business out of the way first." He removed a small case from his pocket and placed it in from of Sylia. "I want you to have this, if you'll accept it."  
  
Sylia stared at the box. It was small and expensive-looking, with plush material covering it. She reached for it slowly, her eyes never leaving the box. Once her fingers caressed it, she picked it up with care, her mind screaming what she already knew was inside the box. Delicately, she opened the box, and her fears and suspicions were confirmed. At that moment, complete indecision gripped her.  
  
It was a ring, sitting on the velvet material inside. The band was gold, two strands of metal twisted around each other for the entire band. A number of colored gems were placed around a diamond about he size of her thumbnail, and her mind noted that the color of the gems on the left side of the setting matched the color of the Saber's hardsuits, white, blue, green and red -- while the gems on the other half were the black and gold of the Black Knights.  
  
Sylia didn't know how long she stared at it. She felt the conflict inside of her, and she could do nothing but let it continue.  
  
 _It's an engagement ring_! part of her mind was shouting.  
  
 _So?_ the rational part of her mind countered. _I can't marry him_.  
  
Slowly she closed the box and pushed it toward Greg. "I can't accept it," she said.  
  
"Because of what it represents?"  
  
She nodded. "I told you I have commitments here. I can't walk away from them."  
  
"I would never ask you to do that."  
  
"Then, why the ring?"  
  
Greg leaned forward. "Remembered when we discussed the future? How if all you ever thought about was the present, you would lose your future?"  
  
"I remember. I'm not sure if I want to think that far ahead."  
  
"I'm not asking to think that far ahead."  
  
"Then, what do you want from me? We've only seen each other for a couple of days, but you want me to marry you. Why?"  
  
Greg steepled his fingers. "I've already explained my reason. I have no other motives then those I listed before. Do I have to explain them again?"  
  
"No," Sylia said with a shake of her head. "But I am wondering if maybe your thoughts about me have been...influenced."  
  
He frowned at her. "Influenced? By what?"  
  
"By the data unit you received when you were sixteen."  
  
"Ah. That's your worry, isn't it?" Greg nodded slowly. "You think that your father programmed my data unit so I would fall in love with you."  
  
"My father did have a favorable opinion of you. I wouldn't have put it past him to make sure we would fall in love with each other."  
  
Greg chuckled softly. "Do you actually believe that?"  
  
"It is something I think we could consider."  
  
"He didn't have to program the data unit for that."  
  
Sylia gave him a startled look. The firmness of his statement had surprised her.  
  
The CEO continued, his tone steady, his expression soft. "I wasn't candid with you at lunch yesterday, because I didn't want to give you the impression I was obsessed with you."  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
"The week before my mother and I left Japan, I had a short meeting with your father."  
  
"I don't remember --"  
  
"You were in school at the time. At that meeting, I told him then that I intended to come back in ten years and court you."  
  
"What?" Sylia's tone was flat.  
  
"I was fifteen years old at the time, young and full of bravo. Your father smiled at me and said he wouldn't object to my courtship of you, as long as I graduated from college and applied myself in whatever career I chose."  
  
"He didn't."  
  
"He did. As I look back on that meeting, he seemed rather amused at my announcement."  
  
"He never said anything about it to me."  
  
"I wouldn't have, in his place."  
  
A waiter came over with a tray and placed two cups and a pot on the table, then withdrew. The conversation lagged until after Greg poured them each a cup of tea. They each took a sip, then Sylia asked, "So why didn't you came back three years ago?"  
  
"Several reasons," Greg replied. "I had a major corporation that needed my attention, the Black Knights needed my direction, and I wasn't sure you would welcome my attention at this time. If it wasn't for Janie, I don't think I would have gotten here for another year or two."  
  
"You knew I was behind the Knight Sabers before you came."  
  
"I had strong suspicions. The hardsuit technology we have in common proved it came from the same source."  
  
"What made you change your mind about romancing me?"  
  
Greg snorted. "Some romance. If we're not fencing with words over a meal, we're dueling with Boomers over a girl's life."  
  
"That is not an answer."  
  
"Do you mean, why I'm pursuing you now?"  
  
"If you like to phrase it that way."  
  
"I had wanted to meet you, for purely business reasons, but when I saw you for the first time yesterday, I remembered why I told your father that I would be back thirteen years ago. The promise I saw in you then has been realized in your beauty, your intelligence, and your strength of character. I remembered why I loved you even back then."  
  
Sylia was silent for a moment. "I still cannot accepted the ring," she said, fighting to keep her voice level.  
  
"I don't want an answer now, or next week, or even next year." Greg picked up the box and held it out to Sylia. "What I want you to do with this is to keep it as a reminder that there is a future beyond fighting GENOM. A life I want to share with you."  
  
"You're not going to take 'no' for an answer, are you?"  
  
"About accepting the ring? No. About the other question?" Greg took a deep breath. "If you were to say 'yes' right now, I would be ecstatic. But I know your answer would be right now and the foreseeable future."  
  
Sylia took the ring box and placed it off to one side of the table, near the window. "I cannot promise that I will ever change that answer."  
  
"I wouldn't expect you to change your answer, under these circumstances."  
  
"Then why even ask the question?"  
  
"Because I must."  
  
"I don't see the situation changing anytime soon."  
  
"As it stands now, you're right." He placed the box in front of her. "But do you want to change that?"  
  
Sylia's eyes narrowed. "In what way?"  
  
"You said the situation here isn't going to get any better. I want to change that, and I will need your help."  
  
"And what is your proposal?"  
  
Greg hunched forward. "I want to make a difference here in this city. To do that, I need to expand MALCORP's operations in Asia. In order to do that, I need people I can trust."  
  
"You want me to head up your operations here?"  
  
Greg shook his head. "That would be too high profile. I will bring in people to run the day-to-day operations. But I want you on the local Board of Directors."  
  
"Why?" Sylia asked bluntly.  
  
"Because I trust you."  
  
"You don't know me."  
  
Greg shook his head. "You're wrong there. Sylia. I know you well enough to want you on my side." He sipped his tea. "I want you to make sure we're not putting profit over people. You are smart enough to chose a good position, tough enough to stick to your guns when you need to, and caring enough to remember that the corporation is not the god we live under."  
  
"It sounds like you want me to be the consciousness of the board."  
  
"Not its consciousness, its perception."  
  
Sylia sipped some tea. "Suppose I agree to this. What are you offering in exchange?"  
  
"As a Director, you would have stock opinions and a salary. You would also have access to research materials and other items that you could find useful for the Sabers."  
  
"That doesn't interest me."  
  
"You need allies, Sylia. You've done a lot on your own, but you're just sticking your finger in the dike. You are forced to react to Quincy's calling of the tune. I can help you stop reacting and start acting to improve things."  
  
Sylia sipped her tea, her eyes never leaving Greg. "What do you mean by 'improving things?" she asked, holding the cup in her hand.  
  
"First, MALCORP is going to equipt the ADP with effective anti-boomer weapons."  
  
Sylia stared at him. "How are you going to do that? GENOM isn't going to allow the ADP to buy weapons like you describe."  
  
"Who said ADP is going to have to buy them? I've already decided to give the weapons to the ADP at no cost." Greg down half the contents of his teacup, then continued. "After the events in the last couple of days, the city government and the Diet are going to have to do something radical to save what's left of their reputation with the voters. A few words in the right ears, and they will have to accept help, no matter who it is. I'm also bringing Leon McNichol onboard as a 'special consultant,' to help in the design and development of tactics for the new systems."  
  
"'Special consultant'?"  
  
Greg shrugged. "It was the best I could do. As a matter of course, I offered him a position with MALCORP, and -"  
  
"- he turned you down flat," finished Sylia.  
  
"Yep. But he's willing to go back to the ADP. Seems he has friends in high and low places inside the ADP."  
  
"The quality of the personnel have never been the problem at the ADP. Just the people in control don't want them doing too good a job."  
  
"After the last two days, there is no way those in power can let that continue. They are going to have to spend millions to repair the coastal highway, and the insurance claims are going to be astronomical on the damaged and destroyed businesses." There was a glint in Greg's eyes. "And when the rumors start floating around that this was a corpwar that could have been prevented, there's going to be a scramble by the politicos to distance themselves from their paymasters. I plan to wedge MALCORP into that distancing."  
  
"Is that wise?"  
  
"Unless someone does something, it will never get better. I not expecting a miracle overnight. What I'm expecting is the beginning of a better future."  
  
"These new weapon systems for the ADP," said Sylia cooly. "How long are you expecting it will take before the ADP will be armed with them?"  
  
"Ninety days from today."  
  
"That's moving fast."  
  
"With McNichol and other members of the ADP supplying knowledge and advice, we can narrow down our focus to what will and won't work on the street. I've got people putting together ideas and criteria right now. I also have two factories readying themselves for the new systems. The can have the first systems ready to be shipped twenty-four hours from the time the designs are approved."  
  
"Quincy isn't going to take this lying down."  
  
"He'll let me run free while he calculates how much of a problem I will be."  
  
"While you do something else he doesn't expect."  
  
Greg smiled. "Exactly. I have some other projects in the works right now that will hopefully catch that old buzzard off guard when they come out."  
  
"Don't underestimate Quincy. His reach is long and his power is great."  
  
Greg nodded "I know."  
  
Just then, the waiter approached with their dinner. Both Sylia and Greg said nothing while they were served. After the waiter had withdrawn, they started eating. After a couple of minutes, Greg said, "I also want to put the Sabers on a yearly retainer."  
  
Sylia stopped eating. "What for?" she asked.  
  
"This operation pointed out that the Black Knights aren't as effective outside the US. We suffered intelligence, logistics, language and cultural problems on this mission. If it wasn't for the intelligence you and Inspector McNichol supplied, Janie wouldn't be safely in our care right now. There had been a suggestion that MALCORP hire the Sabers to rescue Janie, but I wanted to rescue her myself. I let my heart overrule my head, and it nearly was disastrous."  
  
"What terms are you offering?" Sylia asked.  
  
"Ten million a year for the first three years, plus you have the right to refuse any assignment and a free hand to plan and execute as you see fit."  
  
Sylia shook her head. "Thirty million per year for the first two years, with the other stipulations you mentioned, plus access to the design data for the Black Knight Hardsuits."  
  
Greg looked at Sylia through narrowed eyes. "Fifteen million per year for the first two years, with the refusal and free hand clauses, plus access to the Knight's intelligence databases."  
  
Sylia took another bite of her meal, giving her time to think. "Twenty million per year, two years, with all the stipulations that have been listed so far, plus I chose the mission payment."  
  
"I will agree to the amount, the length, and the stipulations, but I want to retain the amount I offer per mission."  
  
"Minimum amount to be the retainer plus fifty percent."  
  
"Agreed."  
  
The were silent as they continued eating. "If I had any concerns about your business sharpness," Said Greg, "you just allayed them."  
  
Sylia wiped her mouth withe her napkin. "Maybe if you actually tried to bargain, you would have gotten a better deal."  
  
Greg shrugged. "Maybe, but I wanted to make the deal."  
  
"Why the sudden explosion of interest to what's happening here? Are you that committed to marrying me?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
Sylia blinked. "Priss was right about you," she said.  
  
"Oh? What did she say?"  
  
"She expected you to sling me over your shoulder and carry me off to America."  
  
Greg looked thoughtful. "Well, I hadn't contemplated that." He smiled. "It does have a certain appeal."  
  
"She also said you wouldn't no for an answer."  
  
"I'm not use to hearing no, but in you case, if you say 'no', I will accept it."  
  
"Why don't I believe you?"  
  
"Why should you?" He picked up the ring box, and held it out to her. "There are not many people in this world I consider friends. I have people who work with me and for me, but I don't feel the same way about them as I do about you."  
  
Sylia looked at the ring box. "I'm not sure I should accept that."  
  
"This ring means more then just a personal promise. It is a promise to this city and the people in it."  
  
"I don't -"  
  
"I am willing to wait for as long as it takes for you to say 'yes', but if I do nothing to change the situation here, then I'll be waiting forever." Greg took a deep breath. "So, I must change the situation in this city. I must become an opposing force to GENOM and the others who see people the same way as they see an office chair -- something that can be replaced every so often. I want your help in changing things here in this city. You cannot do it yourself, no matter how hard you try. I am willing to make a stand. Are you willing to help me do that?"  
  
"Do you realize what you are doing? Quincy is the most powerful person on the planet."  
  
"And if no one challenges him, he'll stay the most powerful person on the planet. I'm not planning to destroy GENOM, just shake it out of its attitude that only they matter in this world. It has become a bloated monstrosity that has sunk it tentacles deep into our society, a cancer that has to be cut back, if humans are to survive and prosper. I've been considering this for a while, but seeing you again has brought a personal purpose to my decision. If nothing else, you've given me a reason to start this fight."  
  
"You could destroy MALCORP doing this."  
  
"I'm willing to risk it. I've been gearing up for this since I took over, but I haven't actually had the courage to take the last step until now. Will you take that step with me, to make an attempt to grind away the excesses of GENOM?"  
  
Sylia glanced between the ring box and Greg's serious expression. "I cannot give you an answer for the personal reason behind this," she said, taking the ring box from Greg's hand. "But for the other things, you have an ally."  
  
"I won't ask you that question until you feel the situation here has improved, but I will ask it sometime in the future. When that time comes, I will abide by your decision. Fair enough?"  
  
"I can accept that."  
  
"Good. In that case, I want to introduce you to some of the other members of the senior MALCORP leadership, as the first member of the new Board of Directors for MALCORP - Far East."  
  
Sylia sighed. "I suppose it's too late to say 'no'."  
  
"Don't worry about it. You'll find them in the same frame of mind as me. Like I said, I've been readying myself for this since I took over." He stood and held out a hand to her. "Are you ready to meet you allies?"  
  
Sylia took his hand. "How much will they know about me?"  
  
"Besides your public persona? Not a damn thing. The Sabers are your secret and whatever happens, that won't change. I can keep secrets too."  
  
Sylia arched an eyebrow. "Don't keep too many secrets from those who might need to know."  
  
Greg smiled as he assisted Sylia to rise out of her seat. "That is half the fun. Shall we mingle?"  
  
 ************  
  
Hot Legs Nightclub  
Monday, December 24, 2035  
9:26pm  
  
** Alan had met Nene at the entrance to the nightclub at about eight o'clock and the two had gone in. They found the other three already there, sitting around a table on the terrace overlooking the dance floor and stage. Nene had introduced Alan to both Mackie and Priss, and Alan, dressed in a loose blue sweater and slacks, was polite and charming to Nene's friends. Linna, who had shown up alone, immediately claimed Alan as her date tonight, which the ADP officer did nothing to dispute.  
  
They spent the next hour talking, the conversation possible because of the nightclub's acoustics. By unspoken agreement, they avoided talking about work and instead talked about friends and family. Snacking on an assortment of appetizers, the flow of the conversation at the table remained relaxed, if not familiar. Even Priss, who wasn't happy with having a stranger with them, stayed aloof without being totally removed from the discussion.  
  
The first real break in the talk around the table came when Nene began to snuggle up to Mackie. She had drunk a couple of wine coolers and she was, in Linna's words, "Feeling no pain." Priss, Linna and Alan were more or less spread around the rest of the table, a slight look of disbelief on their faces at the sight of the new lovebirds  
  
Alan shook his head and asked, "Is she always like this after a couple of drinks?"  
  
"Nope," replied Priss with a smile. Her arm was now in a sling, but it hadn't stopped her from consuming a pair of beers. "She likes to try and sing my songs. Sometimes she even hits the right notes."  
  
"I remember one time when she tried to get on top of a table and do a strip tease," said Linna. "Priss and I had to hustle her out of there before she could get started."  
  
Nene mumbled something and snuggled closer to Mackie. He was looking embarrassed and uncomfortable.  
  
Alan smiled. "I'll have to remember that the next time she does my fitness evaluation."  
  
"Don't tell her who told you," said Linna.  
  
"Your secret is safe with me."  
  
"You don't act like a tech weenie," said Priss, looking at Alan.  
  
Alan arched an eyebrow. "How are tech weenie's suppose to act?"  
  
"You haven't said anything about a computer all night. I figured that you, Mackie and Nene would have started discussing the latest tech."  
  
The male ADP officer shrugged. "I'm rather new at being a tech weenie."  
  
"How did you end up as a technical support person?" asked Mackie. "Priss is right, you don't seem the type."  
  
"I was...a front-line officer," Alan said carefully. "I ended up involved in an incident that put me out of action for a while. After that, I was offered a technical position and I took it." His expression hardened. "If you don't mind, I rather not talk about it any more.'  
  
"But -" said Priss.  
  
"He said he didn't want to talk about it," said Linna sharply. "I think we should respect his wishes."  
  
The singer gave the dancer a cold stare. Alan glanced over the rail at the crowd below. "That's interesting," he said mildly.  
  
"What?" asked Priss.  
  
"Inspector McNichol is here."  
  
"Leon?" said Linna.  
  
"Where?" asked Priss.  
  
"By the bar," Alan replied. "He just walked in with a tall, one-armed woman."  
  
"Jeena Malso," said Priss. "Leon's ex-partner."  
  
"So that's Malso. I know her by reputation only."  
  
"What are they doing?" Mackie asked.  
  
"Leon asking the bartender something, while Jeena's scanning the crowd. The bartender is point up here and Leon's turning and he's seen me." He waved down. "They're coming this direction."  
  
"I wonder what they want?" asked Linna.  
  
"I bet you he asked the bartender if he'd seen me," said Priss, a scowl on her face.  
  
"Should we prepare for bloodshed?" Alan asked.  
  
Linna grinned. "I don't think we have to worry about that."  
  
"Oh. She's going to strangle him then?" Priss gave him a dark look.  
  
"Er...Priss and Leon have -" began Linna.  
  
"He doesn't have to know," said Priss flatly.  
  
Linna turned to look at Priss. "He's going to find out sooner or later."  
  
"There's nothing to find out."  
  
"Find out what?" ask Alan.  
  
"Nothing," repeated the singer, glaring at Alan, who ignore her.  
  
Nene burbled something and one of her hands drifted into Mackie's lap. The expression on the younger Stingray's face was hard to describe. "I could use some help here!" he hissed.  
  
Priss' expression became a smirk. "You're on your own, Romeo" she said slowly.  
  
"Maybe you should take her home," suggested Alan. "She told me she was up half of last night working on a new security program, and it's clear she can't hold her alcohol."  
  
Mackie removed Nene's hand from his lap. "I think you're right." He looked down at the sleepy redhead. "Let's go Nene. I'll take you home."  
  
"Nope," Nene replied, her voice soft and slurred, but still understandable. "I want to stay here with my friends."  
  
"But your tired and you're not feeling well, and -"  
  
Nene opened her eyes and stared up into Mackie's face. "I am staying," she said flatly. She grabbed the back of his head and pulled him down into a passionate kiss. Mackie tried to struggle out of the hold, but the ADP officer had better position and was applying most of her strength to maintain her grasp.  
  
"I don't believe it," said Linna, staring at the sight of her friend lipped locked with her new boyfriend.  
  
"Planning to take notes?" asked Alan in an amused tone.  
  
Linna glared at him. "I don't need any --"  
  
"I think she's giving him the tongue," said Priss in a shock tone as she stared at the kissing couple. "I didn't think it was possible."  
  
"I think she's been practicing," said Linna.  
  
"I think Mackie's stopped struggling," noted Alan, still looking amused. He looked around. "Does anyone have a camera I can borrow?"  
  
"What for?" Linna asked sharply.  
  
Alan grinned. "It's too good an opportunity to pass up. You never know when you might need something like this when I need a good evaluation from her."  
  
Before Linna could reply, Leon and Jeena walked up to the table. "Hello, ladies," Leon said pleasantly, holding a beer in one hand and looking mellow. "How are things...." He stopped and stared at Nene and Mackie, surprise flickering across his features. "Nene?"  
  
Jeena looked amused. "Well, Rookie," she drawled, "there's another one taken. I do hope they come up for air soon."  
  
"Anyone want to start a betting pool?" asked Alan.  
  
Leon glanced over at him. "What are you doing here?"  
  
Alan shrugged. "I was ordered to come here and enjoy myself."  
  
"Who order you to do that?"  
  
"My immediate superior, the senior computer security officer."  
  
"There isn't a senior computer security officer at the ADP," said Leon flatly.  
  
"Yes there is." Alan grinned again. "In fact she's across the table from me right now, cleaning her boyfriend's tonsils."  
  
Leon expression was shock. "Nene? When did that happened?"  
  
"Day before yesterday. Daley did it right after you left on vacation."  
  
Nene broke the kiss and looked up at Leon. "Hi ya, Leon-chan," she chirped happily. "How ya doing? Enjoying your vacation?"  
  
"Er...fine," Leon replied lamely. "And I've had more restful days off." Nene giggled and went back to cuddling a red-face Mackie  
  
"What brings you down here?" Priss asked him, her tone not quite hostile.  
  
"I wanted to talk to you."  
  
"About what?"  
  
"I rather talk to you alone. It's kind of personal."  
  
A vestige of an expression came and went from her face. "I don't know if I should..."  
  
Another group approached the table. Priss eyes narrowed as she saw who they were. "What's your problem now?" she snarled at the newcomers.  
  
The new group didn't look happy. One of them, a short, thin guy with shallow features stepped forward. "Hey Priss," he said, his voice thick. "Haven't seen you in a while."  
  
"What do you want, Kaho?" the singer asked.  
  
The drummer of the Replicants looked ill at ease. "How are you doing?"  
  
"I'm doing all right," replied Priss stiffly.  
  
"What happed to your arm?"  
  
"I fell off my motorcycle."  
  
"Oh. Well....that's good. Doing any singing lately?"  
  
"Some. What are you guys doing?"  
  
"We're doing all right. The owner lets us play here a couple of nights a week, but "  
  
"Will you get to the point Kaho?" snapped Hower, the base guitarist.  
  
"What is the point?" Priss asked.  
  
"Well, er...."  
  
"Look," said Hower. "We've been thinking it over and we think "  
  
"We made a mistake when we threw you out of the band," finished Kaho.  
  
Priss leaned back in her chair and stared at her former band mates. "You finally realized that?"  
  
"Don't give us that shit!" Hower snapped angrily. "We weren't the ones who disappeared whenever they felt like it, skipped rehearsals, and piss off the boss three times a week!"  
  
"Chill, Howie," said Kaho. "Starting an argument isn't going to solve our problem." He looked at Priss. "Things haven't been going so well since we parted ways, and --"  
  
"What Kaho is saying," interrupted Francine, a wild-haired blonde who played rhythm guitar for the group, "Is that while you're a pain in the ass when you were with us, we're shit without you. We made a mistake and we're sorry."  
  
"We want you back with the group," finished Kaho  
  
A strange emotion drifted across Priss's face, a blend of hope and anger that went from one to the other in a matter of seconds. But before she could say anything, Leon said. "She accepts."  
  
Everyone turned to look at him. "I didn't realize you were my agent," said Priss acidly.  
  
"Just looking out for your best interests."  
  
"I don't recall hiring you."  
  
"Can we talk for a couple of minutes?" he looked around at the others. "Alone?"  
  
Alan stood up and held his hand out to Linna. "Care to dance?"  
  
Linna glanced at Leon's expression, then Priss', and took Alan's offered hand. "I think we should." She stood and they left the table.  
  
Mackie, with Nene still holding on to him like he was a stuffed toy, said, "I think I'll take Nene home. I'll see you tomorrow, Priss." He stood, and left the table with Nene still clutching his arm.  
  
Priss looked at the Replicants. "Can you give me a couple of minutes?" she said. "I need to talk to my agent here."  
  
"But --" began Hower.  
  
"Chill man," said Kaho. "That's Leon. ADP and Priss' main squeeze." Priss glowered at him, and the drummer took a couple of steps back.  
  
Priss sighed. "Look, give me ten minutes and I should have an answer, Okay?"  
  
Kaho nodded. "Okay, Priss. Ten minutes." The band members walked away.  
  
Jeena slapped Leon on the back. "While you're talking to your girlfriend there, I'm going to see what the local talent has to offer. Don't wait up for me." She strode away, giving them a wave as she did so.  
  
Leon sat in the chair nearest to Priss. "How are you feeling?" he asked.  
  
"Like hell," Priss replied. "My arm stills hurts and I'm stiff. What brings you down here?"  
  
"Jeena suggested it."  
  
Priss snorted. "I don't believe you. You going to go work for MALCORP?"  
  
Leon shook his head, then took a sip of his beer. "They offered, but I turned them down. I'm going back to the ADP."  
  
"You're what?"  
  
"I'm going back to the ADP."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Because they need me."  
  
Priss looked at him askance. "Why the hell are you doing that?"  
  
"Because I can make a difference there. I've already talked to Daley and I go back the day after tomorrow."  
  
"You're insane."  
  
"Maybe I am."  
  
"Maybe your are." Priss leaned back in her chair. "What brings you down here? Were you looking for me?"  
  
"Not really, but I asked the bartender if he'd seen you tonight and he pointed me in this direction. I really came by because I wanted to talk to the owner about this place."  
  
"Why? Did he forget to make the monthly pay-off?"  
  
"I wanted to see how much he wanted for the place."  
  
"This place?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"The Hot Legs nightclub?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
Priss' expression was one of pure disbelief. "Who are you bullshitting? You don't have the money to buy this place."  
  
I don't, but I know someone who does."  
  
"Who?"  
  
"I rather not say."  
  
"MALCORP?"  
  
"Sort of."  
  
"What do you mean 'sot of'?"  
  
Leon sighed. "I mean that MALCORP is willing to put up seed money for a corporation."  
  
"What for?" Priss snarled, disbelief and anger in her tone and expression.  
  
"For members and former members of the ADP."  
  
"What is that arrogant son-of-a-bitch up to?"  
  
"Greg Mallory?"  
  
"Yes, that arrogant son-of-a-bitch! Did you sell out to him?"  
  
"What do you mean sell out to him?" Leon shot back. "He's willing to fund seed money for a corporation that would do what this city and GENOM won't -- pay the disabled and those who lost loved ones a decent pension. A situation caused because they won't let the ADP do the job they're supposed to be doing!"  
  
"And running to another megacorp is suppose to a good idea?"  
  
"Hey, I haven't accepted his offer for the money yet."  
  
"So are you thinking of selling out to that bastard?"  
  
"What do you mean sell out? He's also offering to equipt the ADP with anti-boomer weapons, at no cost to the department."  
  
"I don't trust him," said Priss with some heat. "He's just as bad as Quincy is. He thinks he's God, and you're willing to take what scraps he's offering you and you think he's your best friend! I don't buy it!"  
  
Leon's eyes narrow and his mouth tightened. "Look," he said, "It's about time you realized that the world isn't black and white. There's a hell of a lot of gray areas, and you have to chose how much gray you're willing to let into your life."  
  
"Bullshit."  
  
"Is it? You think Greg Mallory is a bastard maybe he is, I don't know. But he's offering something that will help the city and the ADP, which is more then Quincy or the government ever did. Do you know what the average life expectancy of an ADP street trooper is?"  
  
"No."  
  
"A month and a half. We suffer more then thirty percent causalities three times out of five. The press makes us out as gun happy freaks who are in the ADP only because the SDF didn't want us because we're too violent. The public hates us, the government despises us, and GENOM does its best to cripple us. We can't go on like this for much longer before the ADP becomes completely useless in stopping boomers. That would mean more work for you at you other job."  
  
Priss grimaced. Leon was right, though she wouldn't tell him that.  
  
"To put it bluntly," Leon continued, his expression strangely passionate. "We are drowning in a sea of blood and the only one that's holding out a lifeline is MALCORP. If we have any chance of reclaiming any hope of saving this city from the boomers, we need outside help. Greg Mallory is offering that help. I'm beginning to see that I'm not in a position to turn it down, not if I want to halt the slide of the ADP into the abyss."  
  
"So you are leaning towards accepting the offer."  
  
"I am. But I wanted to talk to you first before I accepted it."  
  
"Why start here with your corporation?' Priss asked.  
  
"Most of the money will be invested in business like these, too small for GENOM and the other megacorps to worry about." He smiled. "I have some personal reason for making this place the first asset of the corporation. That's why I want to talk to you first."  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
"The Hot Legs is almost your home base. How would you like it to be your home base officially?"  
  
"I don't take bribes!"  
  
"Not a bribe. An inducement to get your singing career back on track. And don't tell me you haven't missed singing. I know you too well for you to try and pull that shit on me."  
  
"Look, I don't need your --"  
  
"Look, you need help. Why don't you admit that?"  
  
"I don't want to be in debt to you, all right?"  
  
"Do you think I would take advantage of that?"  
  
"I -" Priss stopped, then shook her head. "No, you wouldn't. You know I'd would accept that."  
  
"But I've seen you on stage. You take the crowd's energy and make your own. Don't tell me you haven't missed that."  
  
Priss' expression was resigned. "I do miss it. But I'm not sure I want to sell my soul to get it back."  
  
"I'm not asking you to do that. Thanks to Mallory, I'm in a position to offer you a chance to do what you love to do, with no strings attached."  
  
"But what about the Sab--"  
  
"We can work around those obligations," said Leon calmly. "And we can construct the agreement so you can play other clubs on a limited basis, and you would retain all rights to your recordings."  
  
Priss leaned back in her chair and glared at him. "Damm it Leon," she snarled. "Just when I think I've gotten you figured out, you go and pull this stunt!"  
  
"Just part of my charm."  
  
"You've been thinking about this for a while, haven't you?"  
  
Leon shrugged. "I have. You singing is what made me first notice you, and I know how important it is to you. I can't compete with that, so, I have to not only live with it, I have to encourage and support it. So, what do you say?"  
  
"You don't leave much of a choice. If you buy this place, I'll sing here. Satisfied?"  
  
"Good. What about the Replicants?"  
  
Priss glanced in the direction of the band. "They're mediocre without me, but I'm a hell of a lot better with them. If they really want me back, then you can include them in on the deal."  
  
"That's fine. Do you want to go tell them to good news?"  
  
Priss smiled. "Not for a couple more minutes. Let them sweat that much longer."  
  
"You're an evil woman."  
  
"I know."  
  
"Oh, by the way. Priss?"  
  
"Yea?"  
  
"Merry Christmas."  
  
"Yea, it's been a hell of a Christmas season, hasn't it?"  
  
"I hope it's a happier New Year."  
  
Priss picked up her drink. "That," she said seriously, "I'll agree with."  
  
The clank of their bottles was lost in the backbeat of the drums as a band began to play on the stage below....  
  
 ************  
**  



End file.
